Payback is Better
by Neteret
Summary: Horatio is up to his blue, blue eyes in cases and feelings.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Horatio?"

The mellow sound of her voice, always carrying a tinge of sadness, broke into Horatio's dark thoughts.

"Yelina." He turned from what had seemed like an everlasting gaze out of his office window. He had been trying so hard to see her, knowing he couldn't, trying still. It was hard to work knowing the window was right behind his chair, inviting his look.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

She knew him so well. "No, not at all. I see you are finally reinstalled here."

Pulling back the skirt of her fitted jacket and proudly displaying her badge on her left hip, she replied, "Yes. I'm starting at the bottom of the heap of course, but, still, the benefits are better than being a self-employed P.I."

Her seemingly aimless stroll into the office brought her to his side. Not too close, of course. Even though Stetler was gone, his mean spiritedness seemed to remain.

"I'm happy for you." Horatio knew there had to be another reason than bragging to bring his brother's widow to his office in the middle of the day so he patiently waited for the rest of it.

As if to prolong announcing her real reason for entering, Yelina moved closer and whispered, "I heard about Sally. I'm so sorry. A drunk driver, I hear."

"Hit her broadside on the passenger side at fifty miles an hour, driving her car into a light pole."

"And her driver side airbags failed?"

"Yes!" The word hissed out slowly. "The driver will go to jail for life and the lawsuits against the car maker and the airbag producers will be passed back and forth for years."

"You and she were close?"

"We were." Horatio smiled at what he had had, even briefly.

To break through the gloom that was lowering onto the room, Horatio asked, "How is Ray doing at the new school?"

Yelina pursed her lips but her eyes were smiling. "Adjusting. I don't know if it's the new surroundings, being away from home, or the new kids. He seems to be having more problems with grades that he did before." Yelina leaned against Horatio's glass topped desk and folded her arms.

"Have you talked with the dean?"

A full smile met the remark. "At military school he's called the Commander."

"So they do the full military routine?"

"At least I don't have to salute when I speak to him."

"And what does he say?"

"That he always keeps an eye on the new cadets and Ray is progressing as expected."

"When he and I talked about it last fall, I tried to caution him it would be a big adjustment."

"And he is taking your words to heart, Horatio. He assured me on his weekly phone call a couple of days ago that he's confident he'll eventually get the hang of it all. In almost the same breath, he said he wondered if this was right for him."

"Well, he said he wanted to get his butt kicked."

"He is so afraid of growing up like his father. Tell me, Horatio, do you think I have been too easy on him?"

Horatio blushed a little and tried to think of how to reveal what Ray Jr. had told him without making it sound like Yelina had bad parenting skills. "He mentioned he could get around you with little trouble. The truth is, he was learning to get around me as well. His father manipulated me all of my life. Half the time, I had no idea until it was far too late."

"I can't help but wonder if this is somehow just another way to get around me."

"I doubt it. He has to stay on campus twenty-four hours a day for the first six months. There are military drills when he isn't in class or studying. After six months, he'll only be able to see you one Saturday a month from ten in the morning until eight in the evening. I think he'll be over any thoughts of manipulation by that time."

Yelina sighed heavily. "I suppose you're right. I miss him though."

"Perhaps you're giving more weight to his grade problems than is necessary."

"There's no doubt about that. I'm his mother, after all."

"I think that, even if this attempt to get some discipline in his life fails, he'll benefit. Just don't accept his word about it. Wait for the Dea—Commander's word on the subject. Besides, he's close by; Rattner Academy is only in Davie, half an hour away."

Yelina resolutely pushed herself off from the table. "For the moment, anyway, he's doing as well as he can in a new school. He asked for it so I have to let him deal with it."

"I think he's showed a great deal of maturity for a sixteen year old. Most kids are forced into military schools and for all the wrong reasons. Ray said he wanted to be in a place that wouldn't be impressed by his charms."

"He said that? Well, if he fails, he'll either come out in pieces or more determined to charm his way through life than ever."

"I don't think he'll fail."

Yelina walked to the office door and gave Horatio one of her glorious full on smiles, "Neither do I." She left.

Horatio wondered at how some kids can grow so fast? Kyle, his own son, finishing his tour in the army, seemed to be on track now, but it had been a long haul. It was too early to tell yet with Madison who was not quite twelve. She was a special case anyway; that bout of leukemia had set her back quite a bit.

Taking a breath, Horatio had to place himself into the present to get back to what he had been doing before memories of Sally had invaded. Yelina had indeed interrupted a moment of sadness. He still mourned for the wild eyed elfin woman, Sally. It had been over so quickly. Four months ago, she had been returning from Broward County where she was helping the forensic psychologist, Morgan Tuttle. Horatio had pictured her in a rush to get home that Friday night so she could be bright eyed and bushy tailed (as she put it) for their planned weekend together. He could only hope she didn't know what hit her. Dear God! Don't let her have felt any pain.

His eyes searched for his team on the floor level of the lab below his office in the glassed rooms. So many of the people he worked with had suffered pain; Eric, Ryan, Calleigh, even Natalia before she had come to them, and worse, Marisol. Was it too much to ask that one person he knew should not suffer pain?

At first, he and Sally had just tried a professional relationship, she as a forensic psychiatrist, he in his job. Their mutual attraction just couldn't be denied, and no matter how they worked it, they each wanted more. Their relationship had blossomed quickly once they had just let it be. Sally had given him care and understanding that few women outside of fellow police officers could. It hadn't all been psych talk either. She liked him as a person, as the fallible man he was, age, freckles and all. He found her to be woman to her core, to be cute, fun to be with, unfathomable at times, wise, incredibly intelligent, and older in years and maturity than she looked. She was all he could ask for in a woman. For six months, he had been a very happy man. He could only hope he had made her last days on earth happy as well.

Horatio was glad his phone chirruped in his pocket.

"H, we had an explosion here in the old Miami section." The voice with the heavy Texan twang did not need to announce himself.

Three hours later, Ryan Wolfe was down on one knee in the blackened mess of the back room of a small rock and gem shop. "I'm finding a lot of small pieces of glass, here."

"Not the usual material for making a bomb, is it Mr. Wolfe?" Horatio stood guard at the door looking up at the smoke covered lintel.

"Small fire damage too. That means no accelerant. The purpose here was purely physical damage and there wasn't much of that either." Ryan looked around at the fire department's efforts to put out any flames through the still dripping debris.

"Thoughts?"

Ryan rose, looked around, peeked out through the open door at the small, nearly untouched shop, at the glass cases that showed no signs of damage and back into the work room where the explosion had taken place. He looked at the source location under a heavy worktable. A small part of the overturned table was black and had been slightly charred underneath. It was now blocking the rear exit. There were remains from the force of the blast. Most of the fire had been because of a table directly across from the bigger one, which was made of flimsier material. "Small damage; I'm betting the placement was hurried too." His eyes opened wide in realization. "This was a trial run just to see if the device itself worked."

"Yes, I'm afraid I was thinking the same thing."

Ryan stood erect. "I'll collect everything and get right back to the lab."

"Good. Call me as soon as you have anything, please."

Almost before Ryan could acknowledge the request, his boss was gone.

Horatio stepped out into the bright sunlight of Flagler Street. He gave a brief glance around at the many small shops, including the coffee shop with outdoor seating across the street. He wondered if the bomber had watched the mayhem from there while calmly sipping a latte. His experience in the bomb squad had taught him that part of every bomber's profile was that they loved to watch their creations explode, see the havoc they created.

"Hey Horatio, the only people in the shop was a clerk and a customer. The store owner is in Chicago buying another load of rock and the manager comes in later. Well, he'll be in sooner than that now. What do you think, somebody after someone in there?"

"What does the clerk say happened just before the explosion, Frank?"

"He said he was busy with a customer who was looking at several pieces of polished coral. He was so busy laying out what he had, he knew there was another customer came in the shop but he didn't pay attention to who it was. He said he figured it was a lookyloo tourist, from the way the guy kept moving around."

"How so?"

"He says people who want to buy make it to the counter pretty pronto especially when he's out in front. Anyway, the next thing he knew there was a loud noise from the workshop in back and smoke was pouring out. He and the customer bailed for the front door."

"And the other customer?" Horatio's eyes swept the crowd of onlookers, hoping to catch someone who was a little too attentive.

"He never saw the lookyloo leave."

"I didn't see any security cameras."

"And you won't find any hidden ones either. It's Old Miami, Horatio, they don't go in for much modernization."

Scanning the street in both directions, Horatio couldn't see anything that would hold a camera. "Have the onlookers been asked if they were taking photos about that time?"

"That was going to be my next 'ain't got none'; at least, not until it was all over. You get anything?"

"Too soon to tell, Frank. Too soon to tell."

As soon as he entered the room that held the Fraud Squad as it was called, he saw Yelina. As usual, she was concentrating on what she was doing, not paying attention to anything going on around her. He was about to approach and was beat to the punch by another man with a large sheaf of papers in his hand. Horatio was just as glad to wait, enjoying the sight of his brother's widow.

Even though he would probably see her no more often now than he did when she was a private citizen, he liked that she would be closer in proximity every day. She was his connection to family, to his brother Ray, to his life. Yes, there was Madison, but she was a child and not his and belonged more to her mother. Her mother had been a drug addict at the time and a brief lover to Ray when he was undercover and under the influence, perhaps of the same drugs. Madison had no memory of her father. Madison's mother, well, she had never known the real Ray, the man who was not the Tin Man, an undercover cop. Yelina was the only other person who had known the real Ray, warts and all.

Finally, Yelina noticed him and he felt free to cross the room. "Do you have time for lunch?"

"Sure. I'll meet you at Dixon's, say in half an hour?"

Half an hour later, seated in the restaurant, he watched her cross the small park that separated it from the lab-police department. Her walk was one of confidence, as usual. It was that walk that had first attracted him to her so many years ago. They had dated, gotten serious, had even made plans for a life together; then 'life' had happened. That was when he'd gone undercover, had basically disappeared. She'd known why he had gone but meanwhile had turned to his brother Ray for friendship and solace. He couldn't fault either one of them for the results, couldn't blame himself either. Now, he was her friend, her solace and perhaps, that was the way it was meant to be.

Once she was seated across from him in the booth, she looked around. "You know, I haven't been here since the last time you and I had lunch here about six years ago."

"Neither have I."

"It must have changed owners. The place looks different." She nodded at the variety of paintings hung on the walls over new coats of paint.

"Let's hope the food is just as good."

Her suspicions were verified by the menu which did not look anything like what they remembered from the sandwich and hamburger fare of before.

While waiting for their lunch, Horatio thought it would be a good time to bring up a subject connected to what they had been talking about earlier. After a light bit of chitchat, Horatio asked, "Do you remember when you brought Ray in about six months ago? You said he wanted to ask me a question and then you left us alone."

"Yes, I had thought he wanted to ask you for money to buy a car. When I found out it was to talk to you about going to a military school, you could have knocked me over with a feather."

The food arrived and both paused to sample their orders.

Approving of his meal, Horatio continued. "Did you know he asked me for money, to pay for the school?"

Yelina nearly choked as she tried to laugh around her mouthful of food. "I just didn't want to give him money for a car, Horatio. I thought if he had to borrow it from you, he'd feel obligated to work and pay you back. He might also think twice before driving like a maniac and wrecking a car he'd still have to pay for. I knew I was going to be back on the force and could take care of tuition."

"He didn't seem to know that."

Suddenly her eyes filled with tears. "I hadn't told him yet." She shook her head, "I guess the school idea was so important he went to you."

"Do you think there might have been more to it than that?"

"Who knows? He is so grown up in so many ways. I sometimes forget that. Maybe I gave him that impression because I didn't want him to go."

"And the more you resisted, the more determined he got. You've done a good job with him. I think he's very much afraid of being like Ray was when he grows older. It seems he has some real mixed emotions about his dad."

Yelina looked over her mound of salad greens. "I think we all do, still. I don't see Ray Jr. becoming like his father, but then, I can't get into his mind either. Even though I said no when he first brought up the school idea, I think I knew that wasn't the end of the matter."

Horatio reached across the table and laid his large hand across Yelina's arm. "You know I'm available for any kind of help."

Yelina's soft gaze touched Horatio's heart.

"I know. You've always been there for us and I appreciate it more and more."

She changed the subject. "So, catch me up with the team."

Ten minutes later, Horatio was glad he was a fast eater. He had at least consumed the ginger spiced beef and part of the greens on which it lay when his phone rang.

"Yelina—"

She raised her hand. "Don't bother Horatio, I haven't been away that long. Thanks for the talk."

Horatio threw down more than enough money to cover both of the lunches and hurried out.

"Well, Lieutenant Caine, it's about time you got up here. I have two other bodies decomposing down in the van!"

"We just got the call, doctor. Why don't you take the bodies you have now and return in about an hour's time?"

The always frustrated medic bent down.

"Thank you. That would be fine. I need to get the liver temp first and then I think the rest can wait. I just didn't want you to think I'm not ready to do my job."

Horatio turned his head away to smile. The Medical Examiner often seemed conscientious about his work to the point of being obsessive. "Never that, Dr. Loman."

Loman plunged the pointed end of the thermometer into the man's right front abdomen just under the rib cage. After a moment he looked up and said, "I'd say he died about three hours ago which would be about ten this morning."

"Thank you. I'll see you in about an hour then?"

"Barring a major accident on the causeway, let's hope!" The doctor was always nervous about meeting appointments.

"What have we got, Eric?"

Delko was on one knee bent over a partially nude body laying supine in a large puddle of blood at the base of a large entertainment center. "Detective Renner got the call early this morning. Someone didn't like this guy. Three shots to the torso and two to the groin."

"Hmm, I'd say an angry woman or a message from a mob."

"There's powder burns on the torso so it was up close and personal; really personal."

"All the more likely our killer was female. This is a high rent district, isn't it?"

"Sure is. If he was the resident, I want his job."

"When was this reported?"

"I think a resident called about the gunshots."

"Do you know why weren't we informed earlier?"

"When the MDPD received the call about this, a bank robbery with an officer down was in progress over on Third."

"Fait accompli versus an 'in progress,' a no brainer in police priorities."

"Yeah and meanwhile, our murderer got away."

A small disturbance from the front door caught Horatio's attention.

"I would really rather not," said a female voice.

Detective Renner's voice was insistent. "We need to know who this man is. The manager says you know the residents better than he does."

As Renner brought the woman forward Horatio noticed the woman was dressed in black trousers a white blouse, and a black low cut vest. To finish the semi-formal look, she had a black bow tie at her neck.

"Hey, Horatio, it's been a while."

"It has. And who do we have here, Vic?"

"Ms. Scarlatti attends the door from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon. Ms. Scarlatti, this is Lieutenant Caine and from now on, you'll be talking with him for the most part. He's in forensics."

The young woman kept her eyes steadfastly on either Renner or Horatio, above the neck, as the introductions were made. She most likely didn't care or didn't understand what forensics were. She was more worried about having to identify the dead man.

"Just one brief look is all we ask."

Turning pale, she seemed to turn into wood. She was saved from the unwelcome task by a shout from someone in the crowd at the door.

"Good God! That's Gunter!"

Ms. Scarlatti's frantic searching look among the crowd at the door brought the cry, "Mr. Chikaskia!"

She turned to Horatio. "Please, let him come through. He's one of the residents. It sounds like he knows who that is."

A few moments later brought the confirmation. "Oh, Jeez! How could this have happened? Yes, this is Gunter Brookline. I live one floor below. I see him all the time."

Horatio turned to Ms. Scarlatti. "Is that possible?"

Suddenly reanimated from her near shutdown before, Ms. Scarlatti said, "Yes, this condo is his. I guess he's dead, right? Can I go now?" She spoke breathlessly and seemed close to a panic attack.

Horatio gently took the young woman's arm as he escorted her to the door. "I want to thank you for coming up. We'll want more information later but you won't have to come here. We'll find you. Is that alright?"

"Y…yes, alright, I—I guess so." In spite of her hesitant words, the brunette was staring with complete trust into the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen and was sure her day was going to be much better.

Once the crowd had been cleared from the corridor and officers posted, Horatio and Eric began their task of finding the evidence left behind by the killer.

Eric called out. "I'll start dusting for prints."

Horatio turned to Detective Renner. "On your way out, would you please ask Ms. Scarlatti if she saw anyone enter this morning just before the shots were heard?"

Nodding to the two police officers he'd assigned to the front door, Renner headed to the elevator.

Assured everything was going correctly, Horatio took the time to stand in the middle of the sparsely decorated living room and take it all in. What had happened here? Who had killed Gunter Brookline? Why? There were some signs of a disturbance, magazines knocked from the glass lamp table set beside couch, a lampshade askew, and a foot stool belonging to the chair by the couch sitting cockeyed showing someone had shoved it aside or perhaps had stumbled over it? Visualizing a line starting at about the middle of the room, Horatio imagined the victim backing away from a threatening figure, past the glass topped table, stumbling around the footstool, backing toward the wall that held the entertainment center.

The half erect body lay at the base of the large theater screen which was ruined now, with a blood spattered hole in it. The head was propped against the blood covered the black glass facing that hid the cable box and DVR. The man's bloody back had slid down from where it had hit. Looking it over one more time, Horatio swallowed wondering what would make anyone so mad as to shoot a man in the groin. Hopefully, the victim had been dead before being shot in so tender an area.

To get away from coming to a conclusion, dangerous in the investigation process, Horatio went into the bedroom. Yes, the young man was indeed Gunter Brookline, according to the driver's license and a work ID. He was employed for a company called Noteworthy Enterprises. Horatio noted the name and address and phone number on his address book in his phone.

Back in the living room, he called to Eric. "From the odor of musk in the bedroom, I'd say he entertained a guest last night."

"I'll get take in the bed sheets for Valera to look at."

"Keep in touch."

Walking down the hall, the six foot tall redhead pulled out his phone again and punched a number. "Calleigh, would you please go over to a company called Noteworthy Enterprises. One of their employees is dead." He filled her in on the details. He didn't have to tell her what he wanted. She would probably find out everything he could think of and more."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It wasn't that Horatio hungered for the sight of a bomb; past experience had given him enough bombs to last a lifetime. It was just that looking at bomb remains was always the first step to catching the bomber and he had an unending appetite for that.

"What have we got Ryan?"

Ryan was looking at a variety of bits and pieces laid out on the frosted glass table that glowed with light. "Well—," he paused looking around at the table as if hoping to find some words. "I thought I knew about most bombs but I'm not at all sure about this."

Horatio cocked his head and smiled silently. It was the look he had when he was urging a member of the team to think something through a little more completely.

"Now, H, I'm sure I didn't miss anything. I cleaned that place completely."

"And?"

"There's no detonator." Ryan dropped his head in defeat.

"Okay, forget what you don't have; what have you got?"

"A glass jar, a machine that rotated the jar, some rocks and the traces of a large amount of potassium chlorate. That doesn't make any sense."

Horatio raised his head sharply. His eyebrows furrowed over his widened eyes in surprise. "Except for the glass jar and the potassium chlorate, that sounds like a conventional rock polishing device. A canister to hold the polishing agent and rocks, and a rotator to turn the canister is all a rock polisher is."

"Oh yeah. I forgot that's how they do it. But potassium chlorate is too fine a powder to act as a polishing agent."

"Also very unstable. The least bit of heat causes an immediate chain reaction." Horatio's mind raced through possible reasons for using this kind of device and came up with nothing.

"Yeah, and if it's in a container, it goes off; like party favor poppers that hold confetti or paper hats."

"Or explodes, depending on the size of the container and the amount of powder."

"But why would a rock shop use that kind of a device?"

"I'm betting they wouldn't, but you'd best go ask." The whisper held the usual note of conviction.

Horatio considered the possibilities of such the uses for potassium chlorate while he watched Ryan leave.

A moment later, the CSI detective heard, "Hey, Horatio! Guess what? While driving back here, I had a great conversation with Yelina. I was really pleased to hear she's back in the force."

He couldn't help but smile at Calleigh as she spoke. "Yes, she told me she was going to go for requalification a few months ago. I've spoken to her a couple of times today already."

Switching smoothly with no segue Calleigh continued, "I talked with a representative at Noteworthy Enterprises. They're a computer dating service. Well, actually, they are several dozen computer dating services."

"How so?"

"They're licensed in not only the US but also in the UK, Germany, India and, well I lost track after that. Here in the US they run about fifteen different sites, all under different names from Find Your True to The Senior's Place to . They even cover religious and ethnic background dating sites."

"It sounds like they try to appeal to all tastes."

Almost in an embarrassed tone, Calleigh said, "I think my Dad even belongs to one or two."

"And, I suppose there is a membership fee?"

"Quarterly, biannually, or annually, depending on how you want to do it."

"So, what did Mr. Brookline do?"

"Actually, I'm not too sure. All I could get out of the rep, Manuel Hinojoso, was that he 'brought in new members'."

"And for this, he made enough money to pay for a high priced condo."

"Mr. Hinojoso did say he brought the highest profit to the company and was paid accordingly. He ended by saying that Gunter would be sorely missed."

"If he was a money maker, I'd say he will be." Thinking a moment, Horatio asked, "Would you wait while I call Eric?"

Calleigh calmly settled herself beside her boss, glancing around at the goings on in the lab.

"Eric? Have you had a chance to interview Ms. Scarlatti yet?"

"Hmm, I thought that might be the case. How do you think she would react to Calleigh's questioning her?"

"She can only try. Thank you."

He turned to Calleigh. "The woman who attends the door at the condo where our victim lived may know something about his guests. Today's events have understandably upset her. Eric said he tried talking to her and he says she froze up on him. Could you go over there and see what you can get from her?"

Besides Horatio, Calleigh was next best in the department for getting information out of a reluctant witness. She knew it, too. "I'd be happy to."

Five minutes later, Horatio was talking to Maxine Valera. "Have you had a chance to look at the sheets?"

Always up front and plain as day, she gave her boss a disgusted look. "In this amount of time? The word 'look' is about the only word I can use. Right now, I'll tell you, there are several stains so he definitely didn't change his sheets every day. Even if he changed them twice a week, he was a busy boy, one way or another. I'll have more as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Maxine. I appreciate it."

Outside of Maxine's area, looking up at the dark vaulted area, Horatio made a decision and pulled his phone out. "Yelina? I was wondering if you'd like to go out to dinner since lunch was cut so short?"

"She did? That's nice."

Yelina's mother had invited her to dinner. She went on to say that she thought her mother missed young Ray's company as much as anything.

"Give her my love when you see her."

"Thank you. I'd like that." Yelina had promised to bring him some of her mother's cooking.

As glad as he was she was living a normal life, Horatio couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

No sooner had he hung up than the phone rang. It was Ryan.

"As we suspected, the shop would never use a glass container to polish rocks. He couldn't understand why anyone would use glass since it could break after very little use. They use metal. Then, the guy didn't even know what potassium chlorate was."

"Was the manager there?"

"Yes, but he didn't have anything to add. As far as he can figure, no one hates his boss or him or the clerk. The shop has been there for twenty-two years, sells nothing but polished rocks and some semi-precious gems like amethyst that don't amount to much value. Even the damage wasn't enough to suspect insurance fraud."

"Did you reexamine the blast area?"

"Three times. I'm bringing in some char from the table leg. I don't think it'll tell us anything; I don't want to risk leaving anything behind. I'll run it through a spectrometer when I come in."

"Good. I'll see you then."

Horatio returned to the room that held the bomb remnants. He looked at the pile of glass. It was perhaps a wide mouthed quart sized jar. He knew Ryan would attempt to put it together and then hope to get a print. He bet that if the jar wasn't embossed with the name Mason it would at least qualify as being one like it. Beside the heap of glass was the twisted lid. A hole had been drilled in the center and a spindle put through that to aid in spinning the jar. The next pile, smaller, was rock. They were all jagged and raw as if they were crushed from much larger rocks. Then, there were the parts of the turning device; a simple motor attached to a rotator and a heavy base to stabilize it all. The padded yoke where the end of the jar was cradled was still attached to the base. Bits and pieces of the electric cord lay beside it, last in line. All that remained of the explosive, the potassium chlorate, was trace.

Horatio put his mind in reverse. First, he reassembled the motor and the turning device. Next he envisioned the jar and put the rocks inside. He drilled the hole in the lid. This is where he hit the first major question; why not use a metal canister? No, scratch that. The explosive used would eventually have blown a hole in the metal but wouldn't have caused that much damage. Glass was better. Did the maker consider that the tumbling rocks would weaken the structure of the glass so that when the irreversible chain reaction began it would more likely cause the whole jar to shatter? No doubt, friction on the padded yoke aided in increasing the temperature faster.

So, he had the jar with the spindle in the lid and the turning device. He already had the rocks in the jar and some potassium chlorate in a packet. He carried all of this into the back of the store, and then gently poured the potassium chlorate on top. He then laid the jar ever so gently on its side, put the lid on with the spindle in the turning device and other end of the jar in the cradle. Then, carefully, it was all shoved under the table and, finally, plugged in. Now he'd made as quick an exit as he could

Backing up still further was how it was all carried into the store in the first place; a bulky package, to say the least. Well, gone were the days when only women carried large purses. Men carried backpacks so it would have been easy. Walking down the street or parking in front of the store, gingerly carrying the pack into the store and maybe walking around until the clerk was busy.

But where did the bomber come from? What was the motive? Whatever the motive was, it had nothing to do with the store unless this was a warning. That was another alternative to the idea that this was a trial run to something some place else. These days, people didn't need a reason to want to intimidate, to hate, to harm others. It was a simple, basic design. Could this have been a high school prank?

He turned to the nearest computer and started typing. Fifteen minutes later, he stood back, almost disappointed. The owner, the manager, and the clerk had no records. He had even done a web search on the names in hopes of finding some public mention of any of them and come up with nothing. So, if this was a warning, it was caused by very recent events. He'd ask Frank to have a couple of men keep an eye out for any suspicious activity around the store.

He turned back to look at the table. Leaning his back against a counter, he wrapped his left arm around his waist, propped his right elbow in his hand and making a light fist of his right hand, started nibbling on the second knuckle of the index finger. So, who would do this and to what end? If it was only a trial run, where would the next one be? How much worse would it be?

After only a few minutes thought, he went up to his office to finish up what he could of the endless paperwork.

An hour later, Eric popped his head in. "Hey, I've got a pile of prints from the condo but not much else. I did bring in his toothbrush so Valera would have something to match from the bed sheets. The rest of the place was clean."

"No condoms?"

"Maybe he flushed them. Either that or he played dangerous or there was a housecleaner that morning."

"Let's hope Calleigh can tell us more."

"The door lady was chatting her up when I left. Cal sure has a way with her. Look, I'll get on these prints and let you know if there's anything."

"Alright."

Horatio reflected briefly on Eric's words about Calleigh. He'd known about their affair and sometimes wondered if there were any hurt feelings on either side over the breakup. From the light tone Eric's voice had just carried, he guessed Eric was either over it or, at least, dealing with it. He knew Calleigh had moved on and was now involved with Frank. That unlikely pairing was about as amazing as could be and yet, in a way, seemed completely right. Now he could only wonder about Eric's involvement with Valera. Both were modernists in that regard, ready to leap in and out of affairs with no thought of permanence. Well, it was a big world and it took many kinds of people to make it go.

Two hours later, Calleigh called him. "The conversation with Ms. Scarlatti was most enlightening and it took me right back to Noteworthy Enterprises. It seems that Gunter was a player here in Miami."

"How so?"

"She says that as soon as he moved into the building, he hit on her. She isn't supposed to date anyone in the building though so she said no. there was something about the way she said it that made me question further. That's when she told me that since he moved in she's opened the doors to at least a couple of dozen women, sometimes two or three in a day; all headed up to his place. From what she heard from the evening security guard who only tracks the cameras, Gunter's nights were even busier. She also said she rarely saw them come back down so she thinks they may have used one of the rear exits."

"Is there any entrance through these exit areas?"

"The only one is from the garage and that's only accessible with an elevator key. Only residents have them. Otherwise, anyone has to ring and wait for a staff member to buzz them in."

"Cameras?"

"Not recording except between the hours of midnight and seven in the morning. Otherwise, a security guard is on duty, watching the vid feeds."

"The theory being that crooks don't brazenly enter through the lobby and all of the other bases are tagged."

Calleigh sighed. "And those are only eyeballed and sometimes not even that. If Ms. Scarlatti is busy sorting the mail, she can miss an entry. You know what I was thinking? Have Eric go back to the condo tomorrow morning and look at it with fresh eyes."

"Good idea. What did you find out at Noteworthy?"

"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you; they are still being a little cagey about what Mr. Brookline did. He didn't exactly sell memberships since they rely on advertisement and search engine tags to get people in the door so to speak but I guess there is another step I don't know about, yet."

"You sound tired."

"Too many ten hour days in a row, I guess."

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Bright eyed and bushy tailed." Calleigh hung up.

Horatio's office faced north with a wide enough view so that he could see west and east. Standing at the window, he ignored the sunset painted western sky and looked toward the east which was more suited to his mood. The purple haze that rose from horizon was as gloomy as his frame of mind. Calleigh's words, used in the same way Sally had said them had tossed him back into that dark pit again. 'Face it,' he told himself, 'you miss Sally.' She had been better than intelligent company, a wonderful lover, an understanding caregiver. She had a life outside of the two of them, outside of her job and she brought that life to him. He didn't have to always be a caregiver around her, always the one to guard and protect. He had simply joined in, following her boundless energy, helping in her volunteer services in whatever way he could, glad to do it.

His conscience chided that there was nothing stopping him from going back to volunteer again. He reminded his conscience that without Sally present, flitting about, doing her thing, it wouldn't be the same no matter how grateful the organization was.

Did he hope that Yelina would fill that emptiness in his chest now? Surely not! After all this time, after all that had passed between them, the trust of friendship? No, he would not risk losing her in that way.

To break his thoughts from their dark turn, Horatio turned and headed for the door.

"Putting the glass together, Mr. Wolfe?"

Ryan was hovering over the spliced bottom and a partially built side. "I got the easy part of the puzzle and now I'm trying to find the pieces of the sky, the walls of the jar. The only problem is, three quarters of this thing is sky."

"Go as far as you can and then go on home. It won't look so hard after a night of rest."

"Then I'll be leaving fairly soon."

Horatio, leaning against the door sill, toying with his fingers, smiled. He suspected Ryan was looking for any excuse to get out. "See you tomorrow, then."

Before Ryan could look up to acknowledge his boss, he was gone.

"Eric?"

"Almost finished with processing the prints. Five, so far, could be different people. Once I get them all I'll set them to running through AFIS. When I get back in the morning, we'll know if we have anyone we can identify."

"You heading out afterwards?"

"Unless you have something else."

"No, I'll see you in the morning."

It was ten at night before Horatio had had all of the paperwork he could stand. Closing his office, he walked among the night CSI team people doing their jobs. He nodded to Ramon Nacimiento, the head of the night team but didn't stop to chat. He'd given up trying to be sociable. The man carried some sort of chip on his shoulder and just didn't seem to want Horatio's friendship. Well, maybe it was something else, but he figured both of them were too busy to work it out unless they had to.

Down in the garage, he climbed in his new red 1958 MG A 1500 with 1489 cc engine with 72 hp (54kw).

Using his experience from the days before he'd joined the team, Eric had looked up a few of his buddies in the auto salvage business. When he'd presented his brother-in-law with the car, it had been hard to say which was happier. "H, it's like those sunglasses of yours, you just wouldn't be you without an MG."

Horatio had not had much time to find out if that was true. Eric had worked so fast that he'd hardly had time to recover from that dumb-ass collision with the cow. He had driven a rental for a brief time and then was back to his favorite possession. Since it was a warm evening, he pulled the top back, let the engine settle to a growling purr and then pulled out.

When he opened the door to his condo, as usual, the place felt odd. It was as if he were walking into a hotel suite that he owned. It wasn't home; it was where he stayed, nothing more. Had he felt the same about it when Marisol was there? When Sally came into his life? When did he even realize how he regarded this place?

He threw his key on the table and closed the door behind him. Alright, whatever it was, he was here.

Later, a bowl of soup under his belt, Horatio stepped out onto his patio and leaned on the metal rail. His neighbor's condos on the right and left were dark, the people were asleep. Below, the beach walk was empty. Everyone was at home preparing for bed or perhaps living it up in nightclubs.

Now, if he could, it was time for him to go to sleep. That was another symptom of something being wrong. Even though he slept soundly once he drifted off, the journey to unconsciousness was almost always a bumpy ride. While trying to get to sleep, possible solutions to the cases at hand came dressed in contorted masks and sent out fingers to tap him on the shoulder. This snapped him to wakefulness but the answers drifted away from him as soon as he could think.

Dropping his head, he felt the tropical breeze ruffle his hair. He suspected the sleep problem was caused by his mental state rather than age. Two women, one entirely different from the other, each who had made him unbelievably happy; gone. There had been other women who came and went; they were delightful, intensely interesting, satisfying in the physical sense but none had done for him what Marisol and Sally had.

What would Cardinal Benidetti say? Something like, 'Be content that you have been so lucky as to have had two extraordinary women in you life.'

'To which I want to say, 'and I couldn't keep one of them, why?''

Tired of his voice crying out alone in the wilderness, Horatio comforted his body with a hot shower and went to bed. He was surprised that morning came so quickly and so early.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"H, Calleigh's idea of looking at the crime scene with fresh eyes paid off."

"How so?"

"The morning light was hitting the rug just right and I saw a shoe print right in front of where the vic would have been shot."

Horatio's cocked head showed his interest was caught.

"I also finally found the maid that serviced Brookline's place. She said she had spent the first hour of the morning in there cleaning that part of the rug. She said it got a lot of traffic and so she did a wet clean on it once a month."

"And someone stepped on it before it was dry?"

"Two, actually. One was our vic, backing up, and the other was a woman, walking forward. From the imprint, I'd say the woman was on the hefty side, too. It's much deeper than the vic's."

"Call Calleigh to let her know about this. According to Ms. Scarlatti, Mr. Brookline had a number of personal contacts with a variety of women. Apparently he had a parade through the lobby whenever he was home."

"Yeah, I already talked to Maxine about the bed sheet. Full mixture of male and female secretions in each stain. Apparently he was busy enough where nocturnal emissions were just not part of his life, at least not in the last week or so."

"Did the maid say how often she came to Brookline's condo?"

"Twice a week. I already talked to her about what she did. She came in early every day and if the bedroom door was closed, she didn't go in. She said our boy, Gunter, kept irregular hours. Sometimes he wasn't home, sometimes he was up when she came in, and sometimes he was still in bed, usually with a guest. She said she knew this because she could hear voices from behind the door, his and another woman, and it didn't sound like they were discussing world affairs."

"See if she can describe any of the women who were there."

"I forgot to mention about that. I already asked. None fit anything close to hefty. She mentioned hair color but that was about all."

"Well, it's a start. Keep in touch."

"Will do."

Putting his phone in his pocket, the detective next looked for the other member of his team he wanted to talk to. It took no time at all to spy the bright flow of yellow hair broken into prisms by the multiple layers of glass between him and Calleigh. He walked down a hall, turned right, and then left into the section of the lab where she had been working since early morning.

"Have you gotten anything from the samples, yet?"

"Some. Mostly soap residue from the shower drain with plenty of hairs so far. Thank goodness the maid was good at keeping the surface clean but didn't bother to use drain cleaner. The majority were hairs, both head and pubic. Most I think are Gunter's but I found women's too."

"That's unusual, isn't it? This is a new condo and the drains are all PVC which is very smooth."

"The pipe was smooth. It was the drain cover that wasn't very good. It was one of those that has only wide slots, instead of small holes like good ones do. It was good for washing most hairs down but it was fit over a wide lip. The soap residue got caught under that, which is a great place for all sorts of oddments.

Any tags on the hairs?"

"Two. From the color, I'm afraid they might be from the same person but I'll test, if I can. The residue may have contaminated the samples. I can compare Gunter's hair to what I find in the drain to see if any are similarities. I did find one interesting thing, a part of an earring."

"An earring? It didn't drop through the drain?"

"This type of earring is very light. It's an old fashioned kind, about a forty gage wire if that. It's just enough to hold its shape while being put through a small ear hole. Somehow it got caught in lip under the cover."

"So, no skin cells on it?"

"No, but we know that someone with pierced ears who wears dangly kinds of earrings was in the shower. The maid had hoop earrings with French hooks when I talked to her. I'll ask her if she wears the other kind."

"Call Eric. He's at the condo. He just talked with the maid and he can find her again."

"Do you have something else in mind for me?"

"You take care of the evidence here, first, please." His grin said he knew she hadn't.

"What about Noteworthy Enterprises?"

"I'll have Frank get a warrant. Noteworthy can wait until tomorrow morning. Oh, and I suggest you take Vince with you."

"He's on vacation. We have a temp who seems pretty good though. I think her name is Umeko."

"Good. Just so you have someone familiar with the tech talk by your side."

"Sounds like a plan."

"And, as always, keep in touch."

Before he left the lab section, Horatio heard Calleigh on the phone to Eric.

His next stop was to talk to Ryan Wolfe. "Looks like you have the sky finished."

"Yup! I worked last night until my eyes were fried and all the pieces looked the same. Got half of it done though. I think by the time I left, I had all the pieces memorized and I put them together in my sleep. It was a piece of cake when I came in. Now I'm working on the neck of the jar."

"You'll most likely find fingerprints there and on the base."

"I was thinking that, unless the bomber wore gloves."

"You'll know soon enough. Call me when you get results, yes or no, please."

When Ryan looked up to acknowledge the request, the doorway was empty.

A few seconds later, Horatio stood at the door to Maxine Valera's 'lair,' smiling gently. "Eric told me you've made some headway with the Brookline sheet."

Maxine caught the slight emphasis on Eric's name. "Oh gosh, Horatio! I'm so sorry I didn't tell you first. I apologize. I hadn't finished with the sheet and it was just in passing conversation with Eric. I still have four more spots to analyze and separate the male from female contributions.

"There are sixteen spots over a four foot by five foot area. Each is a mix of male and female contribution. The male contribution in the eight I've analyzed so far is all Gunter Brookline. Two were from the same female and the other four from different women. Once I have those, I'll run the DNA. As soon as I have it done, I'll run it all through CODIS and get the report to your desk. "

"Can you tell over what period of time these spots were made?"

"I'm guessing no more than a week." Her voice went up at the end of the sentence. From the way her eyes glowed, the guess was more like a hope that no one lived with the remains of that much sexual activity for any longer than necessary.

"Thank you."

No sooner had her boss left than Valera's eyes rolled as she stamped her foot.

That was all Natalia, who worked across the hall, needed. She scooted across and asked, "What was that all about, girl?"

"I told Eric about some results before I told Horatio! I guess Eric told him."

"Uh-oh, not good! How could you do that?"

"Wel-l-l," Maxine dithered. "Eric and I have been getting a little serious. I guess I'm getting far too casual about sharing. I just wanted to be careful about getting the full report done before giving it to Horatio. I didn't think Eric would blab!"

"Well, you two seeing each other is no big secret. Still, sharing case info before giving it to the boss is kind of a no-no. It's not all on you, though. Eric could have kept it confidential."

"That's if I had told him I hadn't given the report to Horatio yet."

"A-a-oh-h-h, yeah. Boss first, then the rest of the team no matter how close you are otherwise."

"What was Horatio's reaction?"

"Close to the vest, as usual. I think he suspects and is letting it go."

"Just don't slip again."

Valera sighed as her large eyes shone, "You're telling me!"

Before Natalia could turn to leave Valera stopped her, "Hey, wait, what do you mean Eric and I are no big secret?"

Natalia rolled her eyes. "Think, girl! Remember when Calleigh and Frank started seeing each other? Remember how we worried that Eric would feel hurt before we found out that he and Calleigh had decided it was best to be friends? Information in a team as close as ours just flows around the halls."

"Jeez, you make it sound like we all know when the girls are on the rag."

Natalia flopped her hand at Maxine. "Hey, I wouldn't be surprised if we were all in sync every month."

Maxine's eyebrows went up in surprise before she realized she was being had. "Get out of here; I have work to do."

Horatio had indeed known Valera and Delko had been an 'item' for some time now. Just how close, he didn't know and wasn't concerned about. There were times, however, when being close with a team mate interfered with procedure. He, as head of the department, had to not just be kept in the loop, he had to be first and last link. This wasn't just brass-hat protocol; he had to know all the parts of the puzzle as they were discovered and be able to put everything together; then, if things went haywire, he had to be able to find the source and mop up the mess, to protect his team; plus he had to find a way to prevent it from happening again. This time, there was no harm done. In fact, no doubt, Valera would double time results to make up for the lapse.

As the veteran of more than twenty years headed down to the morgue, he pulled out his phone. "Frank? I'd like you to go get a warrant for Noteworthy Enterprises. Make it for a general search of Brookline's work area and any computers he used plus the backups for a year. Since they seem reluctant to reveal Mr. Brookline's exact duties as an employee, we'll just have to poke around on our own. Calleigh's already been there twice. Mr. Brookline seemed to entertain an inordinate number of women at home, I'm thinking there might be some connection between his work and his personal life."

He provided the address. "When you get it, would you please give it to Calleigh?"

Pocketing his phone, Horatio was glad Frank didn't say he knew all about her visits to Brookline's workplace. No doubt, he did know, but he was expert enough at protocol where he knew what information to keep to himself.

Down in the bowels of the police department, Horatio pushed through the double doors that took him into the examining room. "Dr. Loman, do you have any more information about young Mr. Brookline?"

Tom Loman looked up from another body he was working on and smiled broadly. Quickly pulling a sheet over the one, he led Horatio to one of the refrigerated lockers, opened it and pulled out the tray. "I'm supposing you're wondering about the order of the shots?" His tone made him sound like he was about to unveil a new sculpture by a famous artist.

"I am."

The medical examiner grandly pulled the sheet down to mid-thigh. "There were three gunshots to the torso first. The first bullet was from about four feet away. It was a through and through passing between he ribs, through the left pulmonary artery of the heart, down through the right atrium and just missing the scapula behind the arm pit. It left the body at approximately a seventeen degree angle off of the primary trajectory which indicates a left handed shooter. The next two were from two feet and then approximately twelve inches away, indicating the shooter was advancing. These second two went through the heart, shredding what was left of it six ways from Sunday. The first of those also exited the body but the last ricocheted around making hash of lungs and the liver."

He turned to pick up a small jar. "This is the bullet. It looks pretty mashed up. I'm supposing you found the other two bullets?"

Without waiting for confirmation he continued on. "I'm happy to relate that the man was quite dead or at least mercifully unconscious when the last two shots at the groin were done. It was so obvious the shooter aimed first at one half of the scrotum and then the other. If those were the only injuries, reconstruction would have been a mess and of course, any future generations from him would have been out of the question."

"I see. Anything else?"

Like a third grader at Show and Tell, Dr. Loman proudly began again. "Oh, indeed! The young man was the source of two different STDs; Chlamydia, two strains of it, and Gonorrhea. He was lucky he didn't have more. He must have been quite the playboy from the invasion of the bacteria up through his urethra. The women he knew were even more lucky. At least Chlamydia and Gonorrhea are curable. I didn't find any needle marks or other evidence of drug abuse but I sent a blood sample up to toxicology anyway. Internally, before the bullets did their work, he was in excellent shape."

"Thank you, doctor." Horatio turned to leave.

"Oh, wait! I saved the best for last!"

"Yes?"

Loman grabbed the light on the reticulated metal arm of the swinging fixture which hung from the ceiling and aimed it at the dead man's chest. Having set the stage, he dramatically pulled the sheet down to the mid waist level. "The last sexual encounter he was with was a biter!"

Horatio looked at the man's chest with keen interest.

"I'm guessing one of his erotic turnons was to have his vestigial nipples sucked or licked, but this time he was bitten. I've known of some men who like to bite but not many women. There's no evidence of other scarring so this was not a regular occurrence for him. He wasn't a masochist. I'm guessing this sexual encounter may not have ended well. From the amount of bruising around the well defined teeth marks, I'd say it happened within twenty four hours before death. Hazarding a guess, I'd say she bit and he told her to leave. Perhaps she got mad or this was the last straw on top of various straws?"

"You took pictures?"

"From every angle. I also made an imprint." Loman turned to the instrument table, picked up a plastic box and handed it over to Horatio.

Horatio examined the contents inside the clear plastic. "It doesn't look like our usual imprinting material."

Dr. Loman's smile was almost gleeful. "It's my own formula. I developed it while studying forensic medicine. It isn't as heavy as the stuff CSI regularly uses and is less likely to press the swelling down. It also takes one third less the amount of time to set. The impression is sharper, guaranteed."

Uncertain of how to put his next words Horatio looked around the lab, unconsciously drawing his hands together at his beltline. Before he could speak, Tom's face became more serious.

"I know! I know. Just to be sure, you'd like an imprint using the approved material. Well, I already have it and here it is." The six foot two man bent down to the second shelf of his tray and pulled out another box. "I used exactly the same methods and I think you will find my formula produces a sharper print. However, it is now in your hands so do with it what you will." He bent his head with a look of resignation.

"Both of these will be compared and the best will be used, I promise."

Horatio left not seeing the small smile of self satisfaction on the medical examiner's face.

"Calleigh, when you are finished with the lab work, would you follow up on Brookline's exact duties on the job? Frank is getting you a warrant. I have a feeling his demise had something to do with the occupation."

Before he could punch in another number, his phone rang. "Yelina, I was just about to call you." Yes, dinner tonight would be fine. Tony Chan's Waterclub? Great! I'll see you there about seven."

It wasn't that he and Yelina had never seen each other over the last four years since her return from Brazil. She had helped him immensely as a Private Investigator in the last few years with a whole variety of cases. And yet, it was all business then. Somehow, police never got together with anyone but other officers. He hadn't meant it to be that way but she seemed to accept it for what it was. Now, as a fellow officer again, they were more likely to socialize again. Whatever the excuse, he'd take it. He had missed her friendship.

The phone rang. "Yes, Eric."

Horatio bowed his head as he listened, then replied, "The maid says she doesn't notice or doesn't care to say who she saw come and go? Let's hope that if it comes down to doing an I.D. her memory will be better. It may not be that important anyway.

Alright, I'll see you when you get back."

A very large shadow loomed beside Horatio. Without looking up, he asked, "Do you have the warrant, Frank?"

The detective who always carried his Texan roots like a banner put his hands on his hips. "I handed it to Calleigh just now."

"Have you found out anything more about that gem shop?"

"Nada. Not a one of them has had so much as a speeding ticket. All of the material is legally obtained and all they do is polish it, string it or set it, and sell it."

"So, the only bad guy here is the one who came in and planted the device."

"Yeah, only we don't know why. Do you think it will happen again, Horatio?"

"When I was with the bomb squad, we almost never saw a bomber make only one bomb. But then, I have to say, I never saw a bomb like this."

"I've got men out questioning other rock shops. Maybe the first one wasn't the main target."

"We're thinking along the same lines in the lab. Hold on a minute, Frank, Wolfe should have a print by now. Let me call him."

Horatio pulled out his phone and speed dialed. Less than a second later, he heard the distant ring which abruptly broke off as a voice from the phone said, "Wolfe."

"Do you have a print yet?"

"It's a bust, Horatio. Smudges where prints could be indicate the suspect wore gloves."

Hearing the results, Frank's thin lips disappeared in his anger. "So, I guess we wait for the next blowup."

"We can only hope is that it is merely pranksters with no intent of serious injury."

"Yeah, like Miami has no hurricanes! Damn I hate having to wait for the next thing to happen" He turned on his heel declaring, "If you need me I'll be helping to bust a drug house. At least I know what's what in that kind of a place. There's always a few of them who put up a fight. I have to get some of this frustration out of me."

Watching the six foot four police detective stomp down the hallways, Horatio called out, "Have fun, Frank."

He couldn't blame the man. Both of them knew the likelihood of this crime escalating from the relatively harmless damage done yesterday to a full scale annihilation of life and property was almost positive. At the moment, however, nothing could be done.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Horatio found himself taking extra care for his 'date' with Yelena. He'd been able to get home an hour before he was to meet her so he showered, scrubbed his everywheres, and washed his hair. Once he was dry, he turned on the air conditioning to take the Miami dampness out of the air and proceeded to groom. First he shaved and then used some of his Ysl aftershave smiling as he did so. It had been meant to be a joke birthday gift from Ray. They had always teased each other about being sissies and being careful of smelling 'too good.' He had always wondered if Yelena had chosen the gift. He also used some of the powder as well. The combination of spices and hint of lavender was invigorating.

It had been a long time since he had used these products. He couldn't when Marisol was alive because she had become sensitive to scents due to the effects of the chemo. Sally had given him another set of scents so he'd used those for her. He only hoped he wasn't overdoing it now. He didn't want to be a walking ad for Yves St. Laurent.

He dressed in a green lightweight cotton shirt, and tan slacks that had a heavy hint of green. He decided he would carry the jacket just in case it got cool. This time of the year, one never knew.

Finally, he set about combing his hair. Well, not much work there. It was what it was, in spite of the reaction of some of the women he'd known. He wondered occasionally, if he had scraggly brown hair, brown eyes, a large nose, and maybe a perpetual five o'clock shadow, if his life would have been different; if his outlook on the world would have been different. Not that respectable looks determined whether a person behaved decently or not. After all, consider Ron Saris. Before he'd been severely burned, he'd been reasonable looking. The thing was he liked to act tough, seemed to enjoy having women say 'he had the evil in his eyes', and, yeah, those light blue eyes with the dark curly hair and olive toned skin could gleam with evil when he wanted them to. But then, that was Ron's choice, wasn't it? Were his own looks, a factor in his life? Since he couldn't change them, he never know.

Why was he so giddy? It wasn't like there was any romance factor here. It was just two friends having dinner. He wanted to be sure she was settling into the fraud unit alright; maybe give her some inside information that would be helpful. He sure wanted to know how Ray, Jr. was doing at the academy. Even though he had a son to worry about now, Ray had once been the closest thing to a child of his own he thought he'd ever had. He still felt very close to the lad.

Thirty minutes later, as he had hoped, he was shown to the table Yelena had called ahead for them. Suddenly he wondered if he should have worn a tie even though he'd sworn them off when he'd been promoted to head of the CSI department. Not that Yelina looked bad in her slacks and blazers that she wore for work but it would be nice to see her in a dress and it should be tit for tat, after all. Well, too late now.

The table was great; out on the patio with a view to the water between the mainland and Miami Beach. He watched the sun changing its glint from the hotel towers as it set in the west. The breeze from the south was just warm enough to be comfortable at this time of the year. He leaned back in the chair, crossed his long legs and enjoyed the evening.

When Yelina arrived five minutes later, Horatio saw that she had indeed worn a dress. It was a Grecian style, one shouldered, black flowers on white, belted, street length; all extremely flattering without being formal. Her hair was fluffed and sweeping her shoulders, complimenting the line of the dress perfectly. She sat with the elegance of royalty. How was it, Horatio wondered, that after all these years, all of this familiarity, the woman could still take his breath away?

After complimenting each other appropriately, they both tried to talk at once before finally deciding that Horatio would go first.

He told her about Stetler's downfall and made a lame joke about how maybe now IAB could do their jobs properly. He tried to remain neutral about naming off the new people in the department but when he got to Nacimiento, Yelina caught the change in his voice.

"What should I know about Nacimiento?

"I wish I could say, Yelina. He has been very hard to get to know. He does his work, hands in his reports but I get nothing more. He has an excellent fifteen year record with the force."

"Maybe he doesn't like redheads."

That was another long standing joke in the family. Even though Italian, his mother had had red hair. Her family had come from the province of La Spezia on the northwestern coast where the Vikings had occasionally plundered and raped. The gene wasn't true and only occasionally popped up. His father's family had been from the same region but had dark brown hair and hazel brown eyes. Thus, his brother had had brown hair and Ray's son showed no signs of red in his hair. His father, unpleasant man that he was, had made being a redhead sound like an irritant. Yelina used it as a friendly jab.

Horatio bobbed his eyebrows in acknowledgement of the possibility remembering how, as a child, he'd been asked more than once if the freckles hurt. More than once he'd been accused of carrying a malignant disease.

Dismissing the memories, he continued with the list, including Jesse Cardoza.

"I remember him. He went to Los Angeles just about the same time the Crime Scene Investigation unit was made up."

"On the very same day. He came back last year and he was fitting in really well. We were sorry to lose him."

The waiter came to take their order.

Horatio said, "I'll start with the Ocean Salad and then I'll have the Bird's Nest Seafood Spectacular."

Yelina kept her two foot tall menu up for a moment longer before saying, "I'll try the Ebi Su Salad to start and then have the Spicy Fish."

After the waiter left, Horatio looked in askance at Yelina.

"What?" she asked.

"You know your food will be staring at you while you eat it."

"It's to be sure that what we're eating is fresh. The eyes tell all. Besides, what's so great about eating seaweed?" She was referring to the Ocean Salad Horatio had ordered.

"I would have had some sushi except I didn't see any eel or sea urchin on the menu."

Yelina made a face of distaste at the thought of either.

The rest of the evening was just as lively, conversationally.

Saying good night in the parking lot, they both seemed to accept coming separately and leaving the same way was best for their relationship right now. In fact, Horatio didn't even think about it until he was halfway home. This time, there was no excuse to call Yelina when he got home either.

Before he was about to swing into the parking garage of his condo, she called him.

"Horatio, I just got a call from Ray, Jr. The academy Commander was murdered this evening and they're accusing him!"

Horatio forced the MG into an incredibly illegal turn scaring four different drivers into near collisions. "I'll meet you there."

Next he called the lab. "Ramon, take a team out to Rattner Academy in Davie. I'm headed out there now. The head of the place was murdered a while ago. The police are already there. You can get the details from them."

Half an hour later, he was stopped by two young men who were guarding the gates in an imposing crenellated wall. After signing in, taking note of some names before his, he asked where he'd find Cadet Ray Caine. When he got out of his car, he noted the local police patrol cars and the CSI nightshift's vehicles parked by a two story building.

A few moments later, surrounded by uniformed officers in the boot dorm sergeant's office, Horatio asked to hear what he knew Ray had had to say over and over already.

"I didn't do it Uncle Horatio! Honest! I had a seven-thirty conference with Commander Trainer. I went into his office and he was dead already. It wasn't me! I didn't have any reason to be mad at him. He was trying to help me, I know he was."

"I believe you, son. Just tell me what happened from the minute you left here to go see him."

"I went into the Main Building, up the stairs and straight into his front office."

Horatio stopped him to ask, "Can you tell me if there was anyone in that front office when you went in?"

"No, the secretary was gone. He's one of the staff that goes home at four."

"Alright, so did you just go straight into the Commander's office?"

"No. The door was slightly open and when we see a door that way, we have to announce ourselves. Otherwise, we knock first; once we're told to enter, we open the door and then announce ourselves."

"How so?"

"We have to say our name and rank and purpose. Like, I say, 'Sir, Cadet Ray Caine reporting for conference, Sir'." The boy automatically straightened his posture as he spoke.

Horatio smiled in approval at the progress in Ray's attitude so quickly. "I'm assuming you didn't get any answer, so what did you do then?"

"I wasn't sure what to do. I announced about three times and then felt a little silly. I mean, maybe he was in the can—sorry Mom, I mean the personal facilities, and couldn't hear me. So I waited what seemed like a pretty long time but still didn't hear anything. So I peeked in and that's when I saw his head and one arm from behind his desk. I ran up to him, thinking I could help and saw the little statue with blood on it. I, I picked it up before I realized what I was doing. I know I shouldn't have done that."

"Just tell me what you did next."

"I dropped the statue and ran to my barracks to tell the Sergeant, here."

"Okay, Ray. Stay here. I'll see what happens next."

Horatio had hardly stepped three feet out of the office when Yelena was by his side. Though she was talking to him, her eyes were on her son the entire time. "What can we do, Horatio?"

He stood still a moment and sweeping his jacket back he put his fists to his waist. "Find out who did this as quickly as possible. You stay here with Ray and I'm going to go talk to as many people as they'll let me have access to."

"You know you can't do that, Horatio."

"When they find out I'm here and my relationship with Ray, I'll worry about the next step then."

Knowing the night CSIs would be nowhere near finished in the Commander's office yet, Horatio decided to leave them alone for the moment. He was glad to see the two cadets who had admitted him through the gates were still at their posts. As he approached, they both stiffened and saluted. He flashed his badge again and brought the two of them to stand in the middle of the gate so they could still see anyone approaching but both could hear him and answer him quietly.

"Can you tell me about the traffic through the gate since you two came on duty?" One boy might have been Ray's age and the other was perhaps a couple of years older. He found the words to so youthful a pair a bit strange.

The one who seemed to be of slightly higher rank replied. "Just the ordinary, sir. Two teachers, who had stayed late, exited, and so did the kitchen staff. There's a sign-out sheet if you would like to see it."

Horatio took the proffered clipboard. "These are staff but who are the other two in different columns?"

The older teen looked and said, "Those are the entrants, sir. Ms. Fontana is an inspector from Child Protective Services. Mr. Zander Anchiova is Corey Anchiova's dad. He was here to see Commander Trainer."

"I see a confirmation of some sort before he was allowed to enter."

"Yes Sir. We have to verify any civilian appointments except for official visits like Ms. Fontana. I called Commander Trainer's office to be sure Mr. Anchiova was expected."

"And he was, so you let him in."

"Yes sir. As you can see, about forty minutes later, he left."

"Could you see what his mood was?"

"He had his windows up and they're tinted, so, no sir, I couldn't see his face. The car drove up to the gate and I opened it. We don't worry too much about people leaving so much as who enters."

"Then Ms. Fontana left an hour later. Thank you. You've been a great help."

"You're welcome, sir. May we return to our posts, sir?"

"Can you tell me where I'd find this Corey Anchiova?"

"He's in the Boot Dorm, Sir."

"The same dorm as Cadet Ray Caine?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you. You may return to your duties."

Horatio found an entrance into the dorm that didn't take him past the Dorm Sergeant's office. He knew that any sight of him would set up expectations in Yelina or Ray, Jr. and he didn't want to do that to them, not yet anyway.

In spite of the late hour, the boys in the dorm proper were still in their uniforms, not close to be being ready for bed. Of the fifteen boys, two were actually at their desks and seemed to be studying. The rest were standing around or sitting on the trunks at the foot of the beds. As soon as they saw the well dressed redhead, they stood at silent attention, eyes straight ahead.

"At ease, gentlemen. I'm Detective—a police detective and I'm looking for Corey Anchiova."

Fourteen sets of eyes shot to the tallest and, obviously, oldest boy in the dorm. Oddly, he remained quiet.

Horatio approached him and asked, "Are you Corey?"

It had been a long time since Horatio had worked with teens but he could swear the curly headed boy was trying to think of a way to deny his identity after being pointed out by fourteen witnesses to say nothing of wearing a name tag identifying him as Anchiova. His eyes switched from side to side, his eyebrows worked their way up and down and he broke into a light sweat. Finally, however, he admitted, "Yeah, I'm Corey."

Here was another peculiarity. There was no stiffening of posture, no snappy, 'yes, sir,' nothing to indicate cadet behavior. Horatio stuck this away in his 'to be considered' thought drawer. He led Corey to an unoccupied corner and noticed the other boys respectfully withdrew to the other side of the room.

"Corey, could you tell me why your father was talking with the school commander this evening?"

This time, there was no resistance in the lean face, just a smile of relief. "Oh, that. It was just a school conference. I'm about ready to graduate to the Senior Dorm, where I should be. I came in new in the summer semester so they put me into the Boot Dorm to train me into the way they do things here." He emphasized the word, here.

"As opposed to where else?"

Another smile. "My last school, Tylor Military in Orlando. We move a lot."

"Did you get to see your father this evening?"

"Oh, sure. I was there during the conference. The Commander is a good guy. After the conference was done, I walked Dad to the car, said good night and came to the dorm to study. You'll see my exit and entry times on the dorm sign in sheet."

"I'm sure I will.

Acting as if he were about to rise, Horatio paused. "Corey, when I asked the question about why your father was talking with the Commander, you seemed relieved that it wasn't some other question. May I ask what you were expecting me to say?"

The handsome young face once again broke into a light sweat as his eyes searched for an answer. "Oh, uh, well, I guess I thought maybe it was about something at my last school. I, uh, was sort of accused of hazing."

"And did you engage in any hazing?"

"Oh, no, I'd never do that." Completely at ease now, the dark eyed young man sat back.

"Thank you, Corey."

"Sure, any time."

The complete lack of military-like behavior was extraordinary. And this kid was supposed to be moving up to the Senior Dorm? Who was kidding who? He also wondered what prompted the move from the other school and, indeed, if it was one in a series. As for whether it had been because of hazing, he doubted it. He had to give the kid credit for thinking fast on his feet. The consideration drawer was getting full.

Outside in the cool air, Horatio decided to see how far the night shift had gotten in their collections. He knew he was pushing the line here.

Five minutes later, Horatio was about to step under the band of yellow tape across the dead Commander's office door when he was stopped by the officer standing guard.

"I'm sorry Detective but you can't go in."

"I think you're mistaken, Officer." He had set his face into the commanding look that would not brook opposition.

Now uncertain, the uniformed officer peaked around into the office and called, "Detective Nacimiento, Detective Caine would like to enter."

Nacimiento came out of the inner office at a near trot. "We're not done here yet Caine." The man was one of those rare light haired South Americans, which showed claimed to heritage from Euopean immigrants.

"And you are denying me entry?"

"Your next in charge, Duquesne, will have my report on her desk the day after tomorrow. We'll finish up here tonight, get the lab work done and I'll do the paperwork tomorrow night and I'll hand it to her before I leave the next morning." His brows furrowed over green eyes flecked with brown.

"Are you denying me entry?"

"Do I try to horn in on your scenes when your shift runs into mine? This is my case. You called it in but that was where your official capacity in it ended. Besides, isn't the accused named Caine?" Nacimiento became a brick wall.

"Yes, the boy is my nephew and I am recusing myself. However, I can't help but be interested. I don't recall you ever requesting entry onto a crime scene my team was handling, Ramon. If you did, you would be given full access, I assure you." Horatio, in spite of himself, pushed his jacket back and raised his hands to his waist.

The night shift CSI detective stood resolute. "Horatio, you know you shouldn't even be here. I wasn't going to say anything about it

Horatio looked down at the floor and thought for a moment, nodded, looked up at Nacimiento, and turned around. He could not deny the procedure. Until Ray, Jr. was cleared, his presence on the scene could be construed as a taint on the evidence, possibly leading to the release of the killer if he was ever found.

The Commander's office was on the second floor at the top of a grand marble staircase. Downstairs, as he was about to open the door to leave the building, Horatio heard conversation echoing from an office to the right of the main stairs.

"I was on my way up to Tampa for a three day weekend. I got back here as soon as I could."

"When did you leave the campus?"

Horatio approached the door and stood so that the officer could see him and the badge at his belt.

The officer nodded at him, apparently not having heard of the ban on his presence, and turned his attention back to the man seated before him.

The man took on a superior air. "We call it a base. It keeps the kids minds in a military frame of mind."

"Whatever. I'd like an answer to my question."

The man's dark hair was clipped into a flat top imitating a crew cut. Even though his arms were crossed, his back was straight. "I left about three this afternoon. I went home, picked up my wife and kids and we were off. We were past Sarasota when I got the call."

He paused and then rubbed his forehead. "Look, I need to go start our own internal investigation."

"You'll have to hold off until we're done."

"What do I do meanwhile?"

"Stick around. We may have a few more questions for you."

Horatio stood aside to let the policemen pass. The man inside took a deep breath and then leaned forward to hold his face in his hands.

"Excuse me."

The dark skinned man fairly leaped, jerking himself into straight board posture. "I just got done answering questions. Give me a break."

"You said you wanted to start your own internal investigation. My name is Detective Caine with the CSI. Maybe I can help you do that. What would that entail?"

"I wanted to start by asking the boot dorm Sergeant when Cadet Caine checked out and when he returned."

"Let's go see if he's available."

On the way to the boot dorm, the man introduced himself as Second in Command, Colonel LaShawn Lafayette.

Answering Horatio's inquiry, the man replied, "I guess you could call me a glorified records keeper. The state requires an accounting the amount of time the kids are educated, the scores on the tests, all of that state mandated stuff. Then, when I'm not doing that, I'm a school councilor."

"I had the impression that Commander Trainer did the counseling."

"Only when it looks like we might lose a kid if something isn't done. The state pays basic tuition but not enough to pay for the military level of schooling expected in the real thing. We can only do so much but it's the teachers and the equipment that do the job and neither of those are cheap. We need paying customers to stay alive."

They had reached the outside of the dorm and there Horatio stopped Lafayette. "Let me see if I can bring the Sergeant out. It's quieter out here and with less distraction, you might get more information.

Not making eye contact with either Yelena or Ray, Jr., Horatio asked Sergeant Motrell to follow him and to bring the dorm's sign in sheet. When Motrell saw Lafayette, he immediately handed the clip board to him with young Ray's name highlighted in yellow.

"Seven-fifteen exit for a seven-thirty appointment with Trainer and then seven-forty-eight return to ask for an emergency call to his mother. His mother is in the police force, isn't she? I think he had to leave a message. I guess the phone was turned off. I called the local police department after that."

Horatio knew Yelina had turned it off to have some private time with him. "Yes, she called me about nine-thirty and I came here half an hour later."

Motrell added, "The local police came almost immediately. They were still assessing the scene and deciding what to do when the CSI showed up."

"I called them in."

"So, now what," asked Motrell?

"Thank you for your help. I think Colonel Lafayette and I can go on from here."

Once they were alone, Lafayette asked, "Go where?"

"Go get some coffee, I think. We need to get into Trainer's office and that won't happen until the CSIs are done."

"I thought you were CSI?"

"This is the night shift working this case. They're taking care of it and until they finish, we just sit tight. Once they release the scene, you can go in and see if there is anything else in that office that isn't right."

Horatio didn't want to say he couldn't work on the case because of his relationship to Ray.

The lounge was on the first floor, across the foyer from the room where he had heard Lafayette first being questioned. Being further down the hall, anyone coming down the stairs could be seen from the room. In turn, anyone coming down the stairs could not see into the room. In fact, the view of the couch was perfect even with the lights in the lounge off. With Lafayette on the couch and he sitting in chair, it would look like the second-in-command was alone, waiting.

And that's exactly how it looked at two in the morning. The dim hall light showed the second-in-command, eyes closed, mouth open and if one missed that, the soft snoring was another clue to the fact that he was asleep.

Horatio sat in the furthest, darkest corner, listening. He knew he would pay later for this all night vigil. It was just that his dander was up now. He didn't think Nacimiento had any kind of grudge against him in particular so why the attitude? Well, that was something to worry about later. He would not pull rank just because he could. What he would do is wait until the night crew left.

Half an hour later, his patience paid off.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A severe iron banded chandelier hung over the stone encased stairs. From the yellow gold light it projected, Horatio could see the hazy shadows of the people as they descended the stairway. The three CSIs, a woman and two men, were discussing who would analyze what. He could hear Nacimiento at the top of the stairs giving instructions to a uniformed officer to not let any unauthorized people in until the tape was removed by his authorization.

Horatio smiled ever so slightly. Apparently, Nacimiento figured he still must be around someplace and was determined to be defensive until the night shift's time was up. He got little satisfaction from having to go around a fellow officer's orders; it was just that, if he had to, he would. He would rather work with Nacimiento, get the job done faster. However, if he had to work with Lafayette alone until one of his team could get in to look, then, so be it. Yelina and Ray were suffering a thousand deaths over this and he had to end it as soon as possible.

Ten minutes after silence reigned, Horatio stirred himself and walked up the stairs.

All he had to say was, "I'm Detective Horatio Caine, head of CSI." The young uni was not going to question a gold badge denoting more than ten years of service, a detective, or the head of anything. The next words out of his mouth, however, did seem to give the young officer pause. "This will sound odd but I want you to do it, all the same. I want you to stand at the door here and watch me. The important thing to notice here is that I don't touch anything and that I never leave your sight. Do you understand?"

The young officer processed the words and nodded. "Yes, Detective, I understand."

"Good." Horatio ducked under the yellow tape and flipped on the light switch. There was no question that the night team had been thorough in their work so he didn't look at the main path or the scene of the crime. What Horatio wanted to look at first was areas that might have been missed.

The small, seemingly insignificant bit of paper was easy to spot for a pro even though it was in the corner behind a set of matching wing backed chairs. Horatio turned the office light off which left the small secretary's desk light on giving out a smaller glow. Yes, figures crouching behind the chairs could be missed if you were a kid more worried about what Commander Trainer was going to say to you.

Leaving the bit of paper where he'd seen it, Horatio next followed the already disturbed path into the commander's office. He could see fingerprint dust on the desk, the chairs in front, Trainer's chair and even the walls, and bookcase set into the bay window behind the desk. The problem was, work had only been done on the left side of the desk where Ray had found the body. From the lack of disturbance anywhere else, it was clear the team had not gone to the right side of the office. He hoped they had taken pictures at the very least.

Horatio guessed the square void in the blood spatter on the pad on the desk top was where the appointment calendar had been. No doubt it had been taken to the evidence locker.

After one more assessment, Horatio came out of the office, nodded at the officer, and headed downstairs to get Lafayette.

Back upstairs with the still somewhat groggy second-in-command in tow, he said, "What I need you to do is go in there and look around to see if there is anything that looks oddly out of place in Trainer's office. Don't touch anything and don't leave our line of sight. You get that?"

Nodding, Lafayette ducked under the tape and went through to the office.

After a few moments, rubbing his hand over his close cropped head, he called out, "Only thing I see is that the little statue he always kept on the corner of the desk is missing."

"Yes, unfortunately, that was used as the murder weapon and was taken as evidence."

Horatio read the reaction of genuine revulsion in LaShawn's face to all of the blood remains. He spoke up. "I saw some writing on the large notepad. Most of it seemed cryptic to me. Can you figure out what it might mean?"

Lafayette went around the desk, stepping wide to avoid the blood pool on the carpet. The generous sprinkling of red on the white sheet of paper had him glancing out at Horatio as if to ask for help. Seeing he was being waited on, he took a deep breath and looked over the sheet. "Mostly doodles. He always had a pen or pencil especially while he was on the phone, ready to take notes. I see a couple of phone numbers, maybe student parents or prospective student's families or schools. He had his own code for when he was face to face with people. Sometimes it meant nothing and other times it was what action he wanted to take."

"This one here, on the left side of the clear square, I know exactly what it was about. He was a lefty so he had his calendar in front of him and wrote notes on the current conference to one side of the book. He'd write backwards sometimes too, just to be sure no one could read the notes until he announced his decision formally. This one is the student's initials written backwards, AZC, Corey Anchiova. He was up for consideration to be moved to the Senior Barracks. Under the initials is an X which means denied."

"He had an appointment with Mr. Anchiova and with Corey. I spoke with Corey and he said he would be moving up. Do you know why that would be?"

"No! I mean, Trainer never gave parents or students a clue about what he was thinking until he gave himself a chance to reconsider. Usually, he'd give his decision early the next day."

"Is it possible he dismissed Corey and spoke privately to Mr. Anchiova?"

Lafayette shrugged expansively. "Yes, anything is possible but still… it would be unusual."

"Do you know anything more of his appointments for this evening?"

"You'd have to ask the secretary. I didn't keep track of his office work. I just knew him really well. He was a good man if a little puffed up about himself."

"Thank you for the information. You might as well come on out."

Once Lafayette was in the hall, Horatio asked, "Do you have any idea what the procedure will be on this? I mean, young Ray Caine is a prime suspect and is currently in the Junior Dorm Sergeant's office."

Lafayette's hand went to the back of his neck. "You know, I hadn't even realized that for now I'm in charge of this shooting match. To tell the truth, I doubt there is a procedure in a case like this. You're the law here, what will you do?"

"I can only tell you that my nephew swears he didn't do it and I believe him. Officially, I have to recuse myself from the case because of the family tie."

Lafayette looked at his watch. "Well, we've got four hours until the teachers come in. The cooks will be in an hour earlier and their schedule won't change. I mean, the kids have to eat. The rest of the staff comes in at seven-thirty or so. Let me call the dorm sergeants and see that the kids are all asleep. We'll start again at six in the morning."

Cautioning him not to use the phone upstairs, Horatio took the Commander Pro Tem to the lounge and listened while he called the two dorm sergeants' offices. Ray Jr. was to be bunked on the couch in the sergeant's office and his mother was to be made as comfortable as possible until morning.

Both then retired to the lounge and relaxed.

Though he wanted to go check in with Yelena, Horatio decided that keeping watch on Lafayette was more important, at least until he could get someone from the lab. He wasn't sure where Lafayette might play into this and until he did, he knew it wouldn't hurt to buddy up with him.

As soon as Horatio heard Lafayette's watch alarm go off, his eyes flew open and his hand searched for his cell. After filling Calleigh in on what was happening at the school and what had been done by the night shift, he continued. "Please send Boa Vista here with her kit. I have no doubt as to the efficiency of the night shift a second pair of eyes couldn't hurt."

"You got it. I'm going to head off to Noteworthy Enterprises and nail down just what it was our vic did for them. Mr. Hinojoso has been too vague too long."

"I agree. Don't forget to take the computer tech with you. I imagine they have all kinds of versions of backups of what their representatives were doing.

"I'll do that I'll want the right records the first time. First, I need to get ready for work. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Forgive me Calleigh. I guess four hours of sleep isn't the best way to start a day."

"Forgiven and forgotten. I'd be a mess if one of my relatives was accused of murder."

"I'll be waiting for Natalia."

Folding his phone, Horatio reluctantly took his legs from the softly cushioned hassock and rose from the butter soft leather chair he'd been sleeping in. Lafayette had already disappeared into the bathroom in the lounge so he went in search of another. When he came out, the dark face on the other man looked about as alert as he felt. Four hours sleep was enough occasionally for the redhead but never sufficient. Today, it would just have to do.

At least Lafayette was together enough to have a game plan as far as the school was concerned. "I'm going to make the boot dorm Sergeant's office my headquarters for the moment. I'll go upstairs to get the list of the school's Educational Committee's phone numbers and the manual on official procedures. I figure that's all I'll need for the next few hours. Once I call the committee members, I'll have time to talk to your nephew. I figure the rest of the school will follow regular schedules for a few hours at least. Finally, I'll look at the manual to see what they have on kids suspected of murder."

Seeing the blue eyes switch from a look of understanding to a hard scowl, Lafayette amended his remark. "I honestly doubt we take on such a responsibility, Lieutenant Caine. I'm only hoping we have something relating to how to run the school around a police investigation."

The scowl relaxed though the whispered reply held something of a menace. "I'm afraid I can't help you there. I will want to talk more with Ray Caine after you are done."

"No problem. I'll also be sure to give you and Mrs. Caine a couple of chits for food in the mess hall. You can bring something in for Cadet Caine too."

The same officer that had been on duty four hours earlier was in a half doze, leaning against the wall. He snapped to at the approaching steps. Horatio and the Uni watched Lafayette retrieve the list out of the desk and a large softbound manual from the book shelf behind the desk. He was shaking his head as he came out again, as if in disbelief of the events.

"I've heard there's a smell to death but I never thought about it before."

"You might be smelling the blood. Is it a sort of coppery odor?"

"I guess. I don't want to think about it. Let's just go."

Lafayette was on his cell phone before reaching the dormitory. With gestures and facial expressions, he shooed the sergeant out but immediately called him back. "I think you'd better take the next few hours at the front gate. No visitors today, only police and parents."

Though the sergeant saluted and averred that he understood, it was doubtful his new commander saw or heard the reply. He was on the phone, continuing what would be a litany of the previous night's events repeated about ten times.

Explaining to Ray Jr. that he would talk to him after Commander Pro Tem Lafayette had spoken with him, Horatio motioned to Yelina to walk out with him.

The ever familiar melancholy in her voice was now etched with a misery. "I thought you might have gone home but I can see you didn't."

"No, I needed to wait for Nacimiento to leave the scene so I could take a look."

Yelina knew police-talk far too well. "He wouldn't let you in while he was there?"

Horatio turned his gaze from her inquisitive brown eyes which, in spite the past evening held laugh lines at the very edges. "Well, uh, I'm still trying to find a way to work with him and didn't last night."

"Also, you shouldn't be anywhere near this case." She looked at him pointedly and then smiled. "Did you learn anything?"

Now he could look at her directly, having business to talk about. "I think so. I'll have to see later today if Nacimiento's team found it too or if I have something to add."

"And this gentleman?"

Horatio filled Yelina in on Lafayette's place in the scheme of things and then told her about BoaVista's impending arrival.

"You know, I was wondering about why the night shift CSIs didn't ask for Ray's clothing. They only examined him with a light."

"I'll have Natalia take his clothes under Lafayette's supervision and bag it. Excuse me, please." His cell had just gone off in his pocket. "Yes Frank?"

"I hate to tell you this Horatio, but you know that we thought another shoe might want to be dropped on that bomb case?"

"How bad?"

"One dead. Peculiar though; it was a private home, a workshop in back, actually."

"I'm on another case right now. Call Wolfe, if you would please."

"Sure."

"Wow! We've got our work cut out for us here." Walter Simmons gazed around at the shattered mess in what had once been a neat little hobby room.

Detective Sergeant Frank Tripp seemed almost small compared to the six foot six inch, sturdier black CSI. He pointed to what looked like a giant rag doll. "DB against the wall there is Eileen Rogomar. Her son says she came into her shop here almost every day, turned on one or two rock polishers and then did whatever she had planned for the day. She was a serious hobbyist, even took her jewelry to shows to sell across the country."

Wolfe squatted down, took a couple of pictures, and then picked out a piece from the litter on the floor. "Shards of glass here. It looks like it was the same kind of device as was used in the shop in the Old Town section."

"Yeah, I heard about that. I thought it was strange but you say this one is the same? I can see it being set up under a table where no one would notice it. If this lady turned it on herself, how could she have missed that it was a glass container? No one would use glass to tumble rocks."

"It does sound kind of strange." Wolfe looked around and imagined once again the task putting the glass together in hopes of getting a print. He shuddered inwardly at the thought.

Looking at the body, Walter made a face. "Ew! Ms. Rogomar here got blasted good. Hmm, I'd say she was sitting on that stool over there when the device on the table went off. That makes it only about three feet away."

Ryan stood and looked at the walls. "Yeah, what didn't get her from the blast itself ricocheted off the walls and came back at her."

Both men started snapping pictures, particularly of the body in situ. This would later help to determine the exact location of the bomb in relation to the victim. The position of the victim would hopefully be found out with declarations from people who knew her habits.

Moments later, they cleared a path for the medical examiner to retrieve the body.

While they waited for the M.E. to arrive, Walter took photos of the outside of the workshop and the path from the side of the house leading to it while Wolfe went inside the house to talk to Mrs. Rogomar's son.

"Mr. Rogomar, I know this is hard but the quicker we know some details, the quicker we'll get to the bottom of this."

Rogomar nodded in a way that made his neck seem too frail to hold up his head. His narrow shoulders were hunched forward and his hands were between his knees, perhaps in an effort to keep them from shaking. "I understand. I just can't imagine anyone who would want to do this to my mother. She was a wonderful person."

"Do you now anything about how the shop was set up, where your mother sat?"

"Oh, everyone knew that. She'd get anyone she could to come look at her 'little place' as she called it. She didn't allow us in, but then, it was so small there wasn't much room for anyone but Mom anyway. It used to be a garden shed, you know."

"So, how did she show off the place?"

"Well, I, for instance, was allowed inside but most were asked to stand just in the doorway. Even I could only stand next to where she always sat, between the two workbenches. There just wasn't any room. She loved it though."

"Which bench did she sit at?"

"At the one facing the wall where the door was. Behind her was the other bench where she kept her tumblers."

"More than one?"

"Yes, one large one, about a gallon size jar and then a little half quart one."

"Jars? You mean ones made out of glass?"

"I know what you're going to say. Yes, they broke on occasion, but they were cheap to come by. Mother, was always a very thrifty person. She was very handy-minded."

Rogomar almost smiled until he saw the look on Wolfe's face. "Oh no! Was it the fact that it was glass that killed her?"

"We don't know yet. It's just so unusual to use glass as a tumbling drum."

"She used to say she always liked to see the rocks go around."

"Do you know if anyone would want to hurt your mother?"

"Oh God! No! She was a very caring person. Everyone loved her."

Ryan almost said, 'not everyone' but refrained.

Walter and Ryan had been examining the blast scene for four hours. They were now comparing conclusions.

"The son, Daniel, said she never locked the place so anyone could have come in." Ryan was squatting down, still examining the floor for any glass he might have missed.

"That seems odd, doesn't it? I mean, considering she made jewelry."

"Once she was done with a piece, she put it in a vault in the house. Until then, it was just rocks.'

"Okay, so robbery wasn't a motive. What did she do when she wasn't playing with pebbles?"

"Mr. Rogomar said she shopped, got her hair done, met with friends, played bridge, did volunteer work at the shelter for abused women."

"Doesn't sound like grounds for blowing her to smithereens."

Walter paused and then asked hopefully, "Find anything that looked like bomb material?"

Ryan's reply was not promising. "Nope. Glass, rocks, the twisted up lid to the jar and what was once a device to turn the jar. I have a feeling trace is going to identify potassium chlorate in the dust we send over."

"Ms. Rogomar used a glass jar all of the time. Do you think that means we're looking for someone who knew that?"

Ryan stood up. "Considering that she showed off her shop all the time, it wasn't much of a secret."

"All the bomber would have to do is go in, add the potassium chlorate to the jar and leave."

"She'd come in, flip on the switch to start the tumbler and then turn start work at this other bench. A few minutes later, the heat would have built up and—"

Walter finished his Ryan's sentence, "Kablam! Rocks and glass all over the place. In this small an area, even the concussion would cause some serious damage to anyone's insides."

Ryan squinted his eyes out of long habit from the day when he nearly lost his sight in one eye. "Any footprints outside?"

"Nothing. Grass grows right up to the wall of the shop. The footpath is crushed oyster shells both from the patio and from the front of the house. I guess you can only hope for a fingerprint this time."

"Me? You've joined me on this journey and you're going to get to finish it, at least as far as reassembling the jar goes."

"But I have photos to analyze." Walter was good at whining.

The two men pulled their equipment together and headed out to the department Hummer as they talked. They both knew each would help the other. Making it sound like the solution to the case was a competition was the way they talked.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"So, this means you can just come in and take whatever you want?" Hinojoso looked at the warrant in his hand as if it might burst into flames at any moment.

Calleigh was not feeling her usual patient self and spoke a little more sharply than she meant to. "I'm sure your lawyer will explain it all when he arrives. If he thinks we're violating any laws or going beyond the scope of the warrant, we'll discuss it with him. Meanwhile, just answer my questions."

"Maybe I should call—"

Calleigh lifted her phone, flipping her mane of hair as she tossed her head authoritatively. "Please send a unit out to Noteworthy Enterprises. I need someone restrained."

"Alright! Alright. Follow me."

She hadn't actually dialed. It was a ploy that usually worked.

From the lofty ultra modern lobby, Manuel Hinojoso led Calleigh and current computer guru the lab, Umeko Ine, to a door under the grand stairway. After swiping a card and opening the door, he led them down hallways and through doors that led to successive corridors which in turn, became more and more nondescript. Each time, he had to swipe the ID card to gain entrance. The final door opened onto a revelation for Calleigh.

It seemed to be no surprise to the diminutive Umeko. "This is where Mr. Brookline worked, I'll bet."

Nodding to Umeko, Hinojoso said, "I guess you recognize a boiler room."

The room was easily four thousand square feet. Rows of tiny cubicles ran from wall to wall. Each was barely large enough to contain a surrounding shelf with three monitors and an equal number of keyboards and mice plus a chair. Calleigh could see aisles dividing the cubicles into groups of twelve going in regular intervals from where she stood. Aside from a hum of quiet clicking, and a few voices, the room was quiet.

Calleigh turned to remark, "I always thought boiler rooms were sales rooms with people on the phone talking to clients."

Umeko's dark eyes twinkled as her mouth spread over slightly protruding teeth. "That is almost a thing of the past. Now, sales are pretty much done online."

"We're not doing sales here so much as keeping clients."

After a moment of silence, Calleigh prompted, "Keeping clients?"

"Yeah, you don't think the popular people use dating sites, do you?"

"I don't know, I hadn't really thought about it. I've never used a dating site."

"If you did, you wouldn't have to for very long. You're pretty and would be snatched up in no time."

Calleigh blanched at the word 'snatched'. "So who does use dating sites and what does this room have to do with what you do?"

Inhaling deeply, Hinojoso seemed to need to want to get the information out all in one breath. "There are really two kinds of people who commonly use dating sites. About a quarter of them are really people who are too busy to go to parties, do the bar scenes, stuff like that. The rest are people who just don't know what to do in public to attract the opposite sex. Of those, about eighty percent are women and of those, about three quarters are over the age of thirty-five."

"Wow! You really have the numbers down."

"Just remember that most of the daters are women who are awkward around the other sex."

Umeko said, "What about the rumor that most people are fat and ugly geeks?"

Hinojoso sucked in his stomach a little and stood a little taller. "If love is going to find you, appearance and preferences don't really matter. The problem is, if you push love away or don't know what to do with it when it comes along, it's going to go on its way."

"How philosophical," replied Umeko in a way that indicated she thought the words were a bit trite.

Hinojoso smiled in pride. "I minored in poetry in college."

To get things back on track, Calleigh asked, "Can you show us just what it is that goes on in this room?"

The manager led them to an empty cubicle. "This was Gunter's box."

Punching a few buttons, all three monitors came to life, each with a different banner across the top. "Each screen is one of the dating sites that we run. Our servers are set up so that each cubicle can run any of twelve different sites, three at a time. When the screens are active, that means the cubicle owner is signed in with his screen name."

Within moments, two of the screens had boxes pop up with pictures of women and remarks. One was a woman in a bikini on the beach, posing provocatively. Her remark read, "Hey comfortfit9, where have you been? I missed you." This one had a screen name, tightbutt124. The other was an older woman who identified herself as moonlover538. Her query box only said, "Hi. You there?"

After quickly typing replies, "Pipe in house broke, was swimming in the bedroom. Wish you'd been there," and "Hey beautiful, I'm always here for you," he turned to the third screen, moused to a pulldown box, and clicked. Another screen with a different dating banner came up.

Meanwhile, replies came up. Tightbutt123 said "Want my phone number?" and moonlover538 replied, "You're so sweet. What have you been up to?"

Hinojoso typed in quickly, "BRB" to both and turned his chair to Calleigh and Umeko. "This is basically what these guys do all day." They might have ten or fifteen conversations going at once. Each man here is a potential date to these women. The idea though is to never consummate the date and always make it sound like it's about to happen. We want these people to renew their membership but if they have a mate they won't do that."

Calleigh's eyes opened wide in realization. Umeko's eyes narrowed. "So, you get the men and women to renew their membership and then what?"

Hinojoso shrugged carelessly. "The person they've been talking to drops off the face of the earth. The people in this room are reinvented ten times a day. We do the same with the male members."

"Are the women in this room as busy as the men?"

"You have to remember, everyone here is a different personality and not necessarily who they say they are. If necessary, a woman might be a man and some of the men are women."

"Do you use real pictures?"

"Sometimes. Otherwise we use model pictures like the ones you find in magazines or when you buy picture frames."

"Isn't there a danger that someone might spot one of these people on the street here?"

"The ones in this room don't communicate with anyone here in Florida. That way, no one here is tempted to meet with our clients. That could mean an information leak which could be really awkward."

"Do you just ignore Florida?"

"We have a section in Wisconsin that takes care of Florida and our market in Australia. We have an office in India that takes care of our sites in Europe and Asia"

"I suppose each operator here is given a list of names to contact?"

"Sure. Say I see Hotgirl1000 who lives in Nevada. Her three month membership is about to expire. She hasn't had any contacts for at least six weeks and that means she has no reason to renew. I also see she's on several of our free websites where all she can do is look but not contact anyone. This means she's serious and worth some effort. I have a spreadsheet in my office where I know who is doing what, how many contacts he has going. I try to keep everyone on a forty unit limit. Anyway, so I give Hotgirl1000 to Joe Blow.

"He sets up a profile that's just down her alley and Joe says he lives maybe half an hour's drive away. Then he sends her a message. More than likely, a day or three later, he gets an interested reply. He sends her an immediate answer telling her she's cute or whatever and asking when she is available to chat online. Online chats are pretty much like first dates where you want to say just the right thing, please the other person, all that sort of thing. So, that's the easy part. They do that for three or four days. The next part is a little harder since we don't want to waste all of our time talking to the person but still, want to keep them interested. Generally, our man says he has to go out of town on a business meeting for a week, go tend to a sick parent, even mourn over a dead pet. Maybe he tells them he's having some financial difficulties and his membership is about to expire. Hotgirl knows that way she can only contact her new man if she renews her membership."

"Why don't they just give a phone number and ask this date to call?"

"They usually try but we always 'respect their privacy too much' for that. We remind them that it's only a week or so and there's no hurry if we have a lifetime ahead of us."

Here Umeko spoke up. "So, if the member wants to continue to communicate with this new love, they have to ante up."

"Oh, we do it better than that. We suddenly declare an old love interest has reappeared in our life. Not that there is any love left but this person has cancer and desperately needs all the care and support available. The person has more than a year to live, maybe, so it could be a while. Then we ask for them to be available on this site so we can find them, sign off, and disappear."

Umeko cringed. "That's cold."

Hinojoso shrugged. "It works almost every time. Actually, it was Gunter who thought that one up in the first place. He was really good; top man on the income chart almost every month. He seemed to love every minute of this job. Most of the men and women here just come in, grind out romantic drek and complain all day. Gunter crowed like a rooster who'd just screwed a hen every time he heard about another one on his list who had renewed."

"Anyone here jealous of him?"

"Not that I know of. I mean everyone here gets the same number of people on their list. It's all personal best. Gunter's death isn't going to improve anyone else's numbers."

"Could any of the women he talked with on the sites have known who he was?"

"No. He talked with women no closer than Georgia or northern Mississippi. Like I said, our Wisconsin offices take care of Florida and the southern states. His marks thought he was in the same city as they were or at least within an hour or two of it was a really small town."

Calleigh thought for a moment. "Well, thank you for the information. We're going to need the computer records of who Gunter talked with and what was said and when for the last year."

Hinojoso looked surprised. "Oh, I'm pretty sure we don't have anything that far back. Uh, I'll have to talk to my tech and see. It might take a while to pull what we have."

Calleigh nodded her head towards Umeko. "Ms. Ine here is a computer expert. She's here to retrieve what we need. It should only take a few moments."

Umeko's merry grin belied her words. "And prease, no probrems. If I get upset, I make mistakes, might elase plecious lecords."

Just at that moment, they were interrupted by a man in a jacket and tie. "Manuel, what's going on here?"

"Jack! Just in time! They have a warrant to get records but I'd like you take a look."

Grabbing the papers from Hinojoso's hands, the man read while he said, "Jack Linker, lawyer for Noteworthy Enterprises."

A moment later he sighed. "What do you want?"

Umeko pulled several small sticks from a shoulder bag. "All of Gunter Brooline's online activities for the last year."

Hinojoso looked hopefully at Linker.

Linker turned with a defeated attitude. "Give it to them."

Half an hour later in the car, Calleigh couldn't help but ask, "Umeko, what was with the pigeon English?"

Umeko dangled the flash drives at Calleigh. "When Asian talk clazy about making mistake around computers, amelicans get aww antsy." She switched to her ordinary American mannerisms. "They also forget that a minute before, I was talking like anyone else raised in the U.S. Silly, but it keeps them out of my hair while I work."

The rest of the trip to the lab was a conversation on how accents and looks, like Calleigh's Georgia drawl and blond, green eyes got her all kinds of information she might not get otherwise.

"Boy! This must be a big secret if you want to meet me here."

Delko was referring to the outside stairway that led up to Chief Medical Examiner's Offices on the second floor of the Miami-Dade police building.

"I just wanted to be sure no one would hear us. I tend to get a little loud when I'm angry-scared."

Led up a few steps and then motioned to join her as she sat, Eric seated himself beside Maxine Valera and put his arm around her shoulders. "Angry-scared? What's that?"

"Like when I'm in trouble with the boss and it was because I blabbed lab information out of turn to a friend who passed it on to the boss himself." Maxine's dark eyebrows slanted upwards over her deep brown eyes.

Still unsure of what Maxine was upset about but getting the idea she was blaming him, he tried to smooth it over. "So, what, did Horatio threaten to fire you or something?"

"Not yet. Why did you have to tell him about the sheet I was working on?"

Suddenly it all came clear to the earnest young man. "Is that what this clandestine stuff is about? What's the big deal?"

"You know we have to follow procedure to the letter. I broke it by telling you about what I was finding which was bad enough. The fact that you passed it on to Horatio gives him reason enough to fire me the next time budget cuts come up." Her voice rose as she predicted it would.

"Did H actually say that could happen?"

"No, of course not. He just got all whispery like he does when he's upset and pointed out that he'd heard about the information on the sheet from you."

Delko realized now just how bad his slip had been. "Sweetheart, I am so-o-o sorry." He turned her to him and hugged her to his chest. "That was really dumb of me."

Holding her, Delko thought for a minute. "I'm pretty sure H wouldn't use this as an excuse to lay you off no matter what. I know him. The only time he holds a slip against someone is when it gets a criminal off or hurts someone else on the team. What I said didn't compromise the evidence and couldn't possibly be used to exonerate whoever killed the vic so, it's okay. You get that?"

"Are you sure? After that mess I got into a few years ago, I live in dread all the time."

"I know, I know. And what have I told you when you get those feelings?"

"Find you and hold on?" She slipped her arms around Delko's chest.

"Yeah, just like now. You're great at your job and the lab would be crippled without you. You get that?"

Maxine spoke quieter now while she snuggled, listening to the powerful heart within the muscled ribcage. "Yeah."

Eric leaned down and kissed Maxine's mop of hair. "I apologize again for speaking out of turn."

"I'm just afraid he's going to find out we're seeing each other."

Delko burst into a laugh. "I'm pretty sure he knows as well as the rest of the lab does. As long as we keep our personal lives separate from our professional lives, we're okay."

"You know, Natalia said pretty much the same thing. Do you think Calleigh and Tripp keep their working lives separate and apart from their personal lives?"

"They have more experience at handling this sort of thing. We can only hope to do as well as they do."

"Well, one thing for sure, we can't handle giving each other information on cases we're working on." Maxine luxuriated in the feel of being wrapped in Eric's arms while she talked.

"From now on, as long as the reports have been handed in and Horatio has reviewed them before we talk about them, we're going to be fine." Eric wondered how much time Maxine could spare. Sitting in the sun, with the breeze playing about the both of them, holding her, was as good as it could get.

Finally Maxine sat up. "I'd sure hate to break up with you."

This was more like what Eric was familiar with. "Oh? You'd break up with me over one little mistake?"

Maxine failed at a serious look. "One? Hey, I've talked with Natalia and with Calleigh. I know your history."

"So? I'm a slow learner." He lowered his head with a sly smile, knowing what was coming.

Maxine shoved him on his shoulder. "The devil you say. You just don't pay attention."

"Aw, c'mon! I have a bullet in my brain!"

"You use that as excuse for everything!"

"Not for falling for you."

That put the skids on Maxine's banter. All she could come up with was, "Yeah, I bet."

Taking Maxine's small hand in his larger one, and using his other hand to turn her chin to him, he kissed her and said, "You're the nicest thing that has happened to me since Marisol died. Nat and I were long over. Calleigh and I, well, she was a safe haven after I got shot and I'll always be grateful. You're different and I find myself wanting to know more and more about you, how to please you, how to keep you happy."

The longer Eric spoke, the wider Maxine's' eyes got in conjunction with the depth her jaw dropped. Before he could continue, she turned from him and pleaded, "Stop! Don't you dare go on."

"Why? What do you mean?"

"If you dare ask me to marry you, I'll never speak to you again."

Her words sent Eric's still delicate brain into slow motion for a brief moment. What had he said to her to that she should talk that way? He hadn't even said he loved her. It was a good thing she didn't jump to conclusions this way in the lab. "Hey, Maxxie," he called her by the pet name he'd given her, "what did I say to make you think I was proposing?"

"You're getting all sloppy on me. That usually means something serious in on the way. I'm just not ready for it."

Feeling like he was between a rock and a hard place, not wanting to admit he had no intention of asking her to marry him just yet but wanting to reemphasize his feelings for her, Eric was left speechless.

Thank goodness, Maxine filled in the space. She practically threw herself against his chest again and wrapped her arms around him. "I really like what's been going on so far. Can we just keep it at this level?"

Eric responded happily. "Sure. No problem."

The two of them sat listening to the rustle of palm fronds of the nearby tree and enjoyed a few moments of pure happiness before Maxine popped up and said, "Okay, I gotta go and write my report."

"So soon? Don't you have to wait on any CODIS reports?"

Maxine shook her head. "The samples were all too mixed. You're going to have to find some other way to I.D. the killer."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that until H says something."

"Oh, go soak your head!" Maxine shoved Eric back against the step he was leaning against and stomped down the steps.

"Hey! That's boyfriend abuse!" He followed after her.

"No such thing," Maxine giggled.

"Then harassment in the workplace."

Both were trotting, rounding the building by this time.

"So, would you call it that even if I invite you to come over tonight and harass me?" She said as she ran up the inclining ramp by the side of the building.

They had reached the front doors of the forward leaning building.

Realizing he could be seen from all sides, both through the smoke glass from inside as well as by anyone on the outside, Eric straightened his posture and politely opened the door. "We'll negotiate the exact terms at, oh, say, seven tonight?"

Averting her gaze from her lover's eyes so she wouldn't show her adoration, she just nodded and said a quiet, "thank you," as if to his gentlemanly behavior.

Parting their ways as the elevator doors opened onto the lab floor, Eric heard Calleigh's voice. She turned from another conversation to face him. The look on her face alone told him pretty much what was coming. "Don't tell me. Back to Gunter's love nest? What did I miss now?"

"You didn't miss a thing. It's something else to look for. His job came up blank for leads. Umeko still has to comb through a year's worth of contacts he made online but it would help if you could find something at his place that says where he went in his off time or what his personal contacts were; something."

"I'll empty out his drawers. Did anyone look for his cell phone? A cell is the equivalent of a little black book."

"Check with evidence before you leave."

"And if we don't have it in evidence, that's probably why. As many women as he had in and out of the place, he'd want to keep it under wraps during visiting hours."

Calleigh gleamed a smile at the crack.

"I'll also try again to talk to Ms. Scarlatti. Maybe she's calmed down a little by now and won't find me so intimidating."

"Good idea. Maybe there were more than girlfriends coming in."

An hour later, Eric put on his most attractive smile and approached the glass doors that enclosed the two story lobby. In response, he was greeted by a not too nervous greeting.

"Aren't you done yet?"

Eric shrugged and put his aluminum encased kit on the floor. "The first few times, we look for regular stuff like fingerprints and blood evidence. After that, we just have to keep returning until the case is solved or we're stripped a scene to the bare bones. We're just not done with Mr. Brookline's place."

Taking an exaggerated sigh, the woman turned to a cabinet behind her desk, took a key from a holder on her belt, and opened it to reveal several rows of keys. She took one without a second glance and closed the cabinet. "Here you go."

Taking advantage of her now casual attitude, Eric zoomed in, intensifying his charm factor. "By the way, I was wondering if I could ask you a question about visitors to Mr. Brookline's condo, other than female."

"Such as?"

"Any people that came in, men, women that didn't have that girlfriend factor about them, delivery, anyone."

"Well, to tell the truth, we're not supposed to take notice. I mean we've got cameras in the two resident elevators and the one for freight. The recording part is only turned on in the evening, after the evening security guards on observation duty leaves. Some of the residents have their own security systems. Officially, what we see is supposed to have no meaning to us."

"On the record, you mean."

Sighing again, Ms. Scarlatti looked around the lobby, checking the second floor balcony, and the mail room. "I know he had several male friends as well as all the girlfriends. There were three in particular. They'd come in, almost always talking loudly to the point of nearly shouting. Occasionally, shortly after arriving, they would come down with Mr. Brookline, pile into a cab in front, and drive off. They would be all heated up about whatever sports event they were off to."

Eric thought a second, trying to imagine himself in a situation like that. Okay, he went to games with his buddies. What then? Did he just go back home? No, he and his buddies would stop off at a local watering hole, eat something, and then go on to their favorite night spots. "Uh, did you ever hear them mention anything about what they wanted to do after the game?"

Ms. Scarlatti's eyes took a tour of her memories, going first down left, up right and then down right where they paused. "All I can think of is a word that has something to do with snow but I don't think that's it exactly. I know there were more but I don't go to nightclubs. I'm sorry."

Eric smiled his very best. "You may have helped more than you know. Thank you."

In the elevator, Eric smiled his 'got'cha' grin. He knew they had already gotten copies of the elevator tapes so, no doubt, those three friends would be on them. It would probably be easy to get stills of them. Once he could figure out where they went after games, he could carry pictures around and maybe, just maybe find out what Gunter did to a woman that was so terrible it drove her to kill him. Being a lothario wasn't nice but most women just walked off in a huff or worse, stuck around, and made life a living hell for the man for some months. Maybe, someone had seen him mistreat a woman so badly it had sent her around the bend.

At first, the closet merely looked like any other outfitted with an organizer kit. The secret panels inside the closet took some time for Eric to find. As would be expected in an expensive high rise, the closet was four times Eric's own. Not only was it big enough to get dressed in, it had room enough for twenty shirts, fifteen slacks, five sports jackets, and two rows each of ten pair of shoes. The shelves held the foldable wear such as casual t-shirts, shorts, and sweats. The drawers held socks, underwear, and assorted accessories though few neck ties. The muscular CSI was admiring the assorted variety of expensive watches laid out on the top of the drawers when the odd depth of the rise against the wall caught his eyes. More, the detailed work in the paneling seemed out of line with the cleaner smooth lines of the rest of the closet.

Donning his gloves he carefully pressed and lifted and pushed until he found the right combination to the puzzle. Not only did the front panel lift, a light inside came on. Jackpot! There were two cell phones, several pieces of what looked to be very expensive jewelry, plastic baggies, and a few things that Eric had only heard about in his experience of the pornographic world. Each had a tag with a one, two, or even three female names. Wow! Gunter had to keep track! Now that was a busy life!

After snapping pictures, he scooped the secret stash into evidence envelopes and continued his search through the drawers. Finding nothing but clothing, he next turned his attention to the night stands by the bed. Again, he found nothing and nearly left the room. Seeing the phone book in the open space beneath the drawer, he pulled it out. There! A book mark! It was a drink ticket from a club Eric hadn't been to yet. Looking at the page where the mark had been, a list of Miami nightclubs, he saw nothing to indicate any other favorites.

Another bit of inspiration sent him into the kitchen where he opened the cupboard doors. The fourth cupboard was the jackpot; a collection of bar glasses, often handed out at grand openings and anniversary occasions.

Half an hour more turned up nothing.

"Calleigh, I think I'm done here. Aside from friends, local watering holes, and his cell, can you think of any way we could find out more about Gunter?"

He listened to her reply and then answered, "Yeah, I did. She helped a lot this time.

After a moment, he went on, "Okay, if there's nothing else, I'll bring the booty on home. And I'm not kidding about booty either."

He leered. "You'll see."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Ms. Boa Vista, I'm glad you could come so quickly."

"No problem, Horatio. What's going on? Didn't Nacimiento's team come?"

"They did and took what evidence they found. I'd like you to, shall we say, supplement their findings. Although I can't take part because of my relation to Ray, I can give you some ideas as to what direction to start with. First, you might take Ray's clothing."

"The night team didn't take it? That's odd."

Horatio narrowly avoided giving a nod of agreement. He was in a precarious enough position as it was.

"After that, you can go up to the Commander's office and see if you can find anything, anywhere." He emphasized the last word, hoping Natalia would catch it.

"I'll especially look in places where the night team might have overlooked." The glint in her dark brown eyes showed she had received Horatio's message loud and clear.

"Anyone I can talk to?"

Horatio listed Lafayette, Anchiova Senior, and Junior and, of course, Ray. "The Anchiovas were the last that we know of to see Trainer alive. I'm assuming both have been questioned already." He went on to mention the cryptic notation on the left side of the desk blotter and what Lafayette had told him it meant.

"I'll see if Corey gives me the same story as he tried on you."

"If he does, you might call Mr. Anchiova and request his presence here at the school."

"Good idea."

"Any information you pick up in the office might give you some ideas about what to ask Ray."

Natalia nodded, not quite understanding, but knowing there was a reason for Horatio's remark.

"From now on Ms. Boa Vista, you are on your own. I may have overstepped my bounds as it is."

"No, you didn't. Everything I'm about to do is my own idea."

The sky colored eyes glowed in quiet thanks.

Natalia turned with a businesslike air and walked into the room where the cadet and his mother were quietly talking.

Being relieved of his school uniform and wearing exercise jerseys seemed to give Ray permission to relax. He curled up on the couch and immediately fell asleep.

Seeing Horatio standing outside the door gazing at her son, Yelina felt free to join him. "I haven't seen him this exhausted since he was a small boy after a day at Disney World."

"Has he had any sleep at all since it all started?"

"Only short naps. Just as he would fall asleep, someone would come in to question him. I'm surprised he was as coherent as he was."

"When Ms. Boa Vista is finished with the crime scene, she will need to question him. Then I want to talk to him, if that's alright with you."

"I know you have to, for your own peace of mind Horatio. I just wish it was over." She wrapped her arms around her waist and looked miserable.

Before he knew what he was doing, Horatio had gathered the slender, dark haired woman into his embrace and held her. "Soon, later, eventually, it will be over, Yelina."

Feeling her relax, it was a few moments before he heard, "I know. It's just that, now, it feels like it's been an eternity and will never be gone. My son needs me more than ever and I'm helpless."

"Not as long as he feels your support. That will keep him going, Yelina."

Withdrawing easily from the gentle embrace, Yelina looked up into her friend's eyes. "You're right, of course. Thank you for the reminder. I also feel better with Natalia being here."

"There's not a chance in the world Ray will even be taken into custody. I only hope his being a person of interest will end soon."

Horatio could not have been more surprised to find a gentle kiss planted on his pale cheek. To hide it he told her about his requests to Boa Vista. "I can't order anyone to do anything on this case. Nacimiento is officially the first and last word, being second in command overall. Anything Boa Vista comes up with will have to be turned over to Ramon."

"What about Calleigh?"

"In terms of seniority and her lack of involvement with the case, she can't qualify."

Horatio could tell it was taking all of Yelina's training as a police officer to maintain as objective a view as possible. Her lips pursed, her eyes glossed over, her eyebrows arched over the bridge of her nose. Her years of discipline finally won out; she straightened her back and lifted her chin. "Colonel Lafayette gave me some tickets for meals at the cafeteria. Would you stay here while I got get something for Ray and myself?"

Horatio's innards growled at the mention of food so he asked to bring some coffee and anything that resembled an egg sandwich. When Yelina had departed, he was happy to settle down for a brief while.

Of course, it was not to be. No sooner had he gotten comfortable, his phone vibrated. Checking the number, he saw it was Frank. Moving quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping boy, he stepped out into the hall. "Yes, Frank?"

"Horatio, you're not going to believe this. Another blast."

"Where?"

"At the Miami University chem lab. It has all of the earmarks of the first two."

If there was ever a time Horatio felt pulled between two duties, this was it. There was no way he could leave Yelina and his nephew and yet he was the most knowledgeable person in the lab when it came to bombs.

After years of association with the mind under the red thatch, Frank was all too aware of the longer than usual pause. "Horatio?"

Finally, even Horatio could hear the unusually tight and decisive tone to his voice. "Call Wolfe."

Frank's voice carried the casual 'it ain't none o' my business' attitude he liked to show when he thought the decision was wrong. "Okay."

Horatio peeked around the corner and saw Ray was still asleep. He punched a familiar number and a moment later said, "Calleigh, would you please check with the lab crew and see if they are working on anything Nacimiento handed down from last night?"

"Yes, the murder from the school. I'm particularly interested in trace around the body and fingerprints on the statue. Also check with Tom. I'm betting he already had findings on the body. What I want to know most particularly is what were the angles of the blows."

"I know, we're both walking a thin line here. Just get what you can."

Then Horatio listened for a few seconds while Calleigh reported her own findings on the Gunter Brookline case.

"I agree, it sounds like that company may be defrauding its customers. Hand that part over to the Fraud Squad. Is Eric going to cover the night clubs with photos of the vic and his friends? And you're going to talk to the people listed on those two cell phones. Good. As to the toys he found, see if Valera can find some DNA traces. They probably won't mean much but they'll be good to have. Stay in touch." He folded his phone.

"Uncle Horatio, where's Mom?"

Guilt washed over the man as he put his phone into his pocket. He had promised to keep an eye on Ray and had promptly walked out to talk on the phone. He placed a comforting arm around the five and a half foot teen. "She's gone over to the cafet—uh, mess hall to get us something to eat."

"Good, I'm hungry. I hope she brings a lot."

Guiding Ray back into the room where he was supposed to stay, Horatio smiled. If the kid was only thinking of his belly at a time like this, he was going to be alright.

Right on cue, Yelina appeared with a bag bulging with square objects and a cardboard tray with cups in the holders. "They were almost ready to close down the breakfast shift." She sat and pulled out a covered box, seemed to weigh the heft of it and handed it over to Horatio. "Eggs and toast was as close to an egg sandwich as I could get."

As he took a seat, he said, "Good enough." He wasn't so sure of his words when he opened the box. The eggs were dry, chopped up and barely recognizable. He could see the toast was soggy with a liquid butter substitute. He didn't want to inquire about the coffee but she handed a cup to him anyway which he set on the floor beside the chair.

Ray didn't seem surprised or disappointed at what looked like a triple helping of what Horatio had plus bacon. Anxiously unrolling the fork from the paper napkin, he held up the box to his chin level and began shoveling in the food.

Watching her son's near barbaric behavior for a brief second, Yelina looked wonderingly, helplessly at Horatio and then shook her head. A moment later, Horatio could tell she didn't understand how her son could eat the food at all much less with the noisy relish he showed. She had taken two bites and then set it down on the floor. She then took the top off the coffee, took a sip, made a face and replaced the top. "I can only hope I can find an apple at lunch time. What can they do to an apple?"

"If this is any hint, I'm not so sure I'd be so quick to judge a lack of imagination at ruining food."

Ray looked up and grinned. "If this was all you ever got to eat, you'd settle for it, believe me."

"My poor boy, what kind of a little shop of horrors have I put you in?"

His voice was slightly muffled by another mouthful of food. "Just get the guy who killed the commander and I'll be fine." His jaw moved swiftly up and down, his throat moved and he opened his mouth to receive another large forkful of egg followed by a bite of toast.

"If you don't choke to death before you graduate."

Ray grinned but suddenly put his box of food on the floor and rose quickly, standing at attention. "Sir!"

Horatio saw that Commander pro tem Lafayette had entered the room. He was almost glad to put his own box of food on the floor. Rising, he said, "I guess you are ready to question Ray?"

"That's right. I've talked with the police and they shared what they got from Cadet Caine. I think once I'm done, we'll all be able to come to a consensus on the likelihood of his guilt or lack thereof. We'll go from there." He then stood to one side of the door and gestured with his arm.

At the same time, he held his hand up to Yelina. "If you don't mind, Ms. Solas, I'd like to question Cadet Caine alone."

Yelina stood tall and resolute. "That is out of bounds of the law to question a minor without a legal guardian or parent present."

Never before looking so mature, young Ray stood with a straight back and said, "I'm not going to say anything different than what I've said in front of you and Uncle Horatio, Mom. Please, the quicker we do it the Academy way, the quicker this will be done."

Following the Lafayette's motion to enter the office, Ray looked at his mother and at Horatio and, fixing his face into as stern a look as a sixteen year old boy can assume, walked through the door.

The quiet sound of the door closing seemed to knock Yelina back into the chair. Until Ray came out again, she sat, unmoving, her eyes transfixed on the barrier between herself and her son.

Knowing there was not much he could do, Horatio picked up the remains of the food and took them out to a dumpster. He couldn't keep his eyes from wandering to the central office building where he knew Natalia was doing her job.

Upstairs, Natalia had entered the scene as she would have if the scene had never felt the hands or eyes of a CSI. She treated it as if everything was pristine as the moment the murderer had left it. Used to the silence that pervaded the aftermath of any murder scene she still kept her ears tuned to any sounds. She wondered if her hearing aide helped or even improved her audible range now.

'No, back to the matter at hand, girl,' she chided herself. Her last hearing test had tested she could hear as well as before Nick had given her several whacks on the side of the head. At least she didn't have to work as hard nowadays to turn the flood of evil thoughts off when she actively thought of Nick. It used to be that those dark days would overwhelm her whenever anything reminded her of them. She would occasionally fall into the dark whirlpool; feel the degradation he'd heaped on her as well as the pain he'd dealt. Now, it was easier to turn to her tasks of the day.

Her eyes wandered over the dim interior of the outer office. Even though the lamp on the desk still burned, and the light through the blinds illuminated the room even more, she still brought out her mini-mag flashlight. Most of this front office was as undisturbed as the secretary had left it. It wasn't long, however, before she spotted one of the details Horatio's tone had indicated she would find. Squeezing her adult form behind the chairs, she picked it up. It turned out to be a crumpled piece of chewing gum wrapper. Looking at the arrangement of the chairs, she could imagine slender boys would have no problem getting into the space. That would be something boys would do, too. What reason, she couldn't figure yet. First, bag it, tag it, and see what the lab could come up with.

Further examination of the room revealed nothing out of the ordinary, dust here and there, trash in the small bin beside the desk. Slowly, she expanded her field of search until three hours later she knew there was nothing else she could garner in the way of evidence.

"Hi, I'm CSI Walter Simmons. Are you Professor Nostromos?"

The muscular man with the clean shaven head looked up from his papers. He didn't look too pleased. "I am. You didn't have to rush right over. It could have waited until tomorrow or even next week."

"You did have a bomb go off in one of the labs, didn't you?"

"Oh bomb, piffle! It wasn't anything of the sort. It was a prank; the same type that's pulled at least once every four or five years. The only reason you know about it is because rules of national security require us to report it now."

"Well, may I see where this 'prank' was pulled, sir?"

"Was there a girl in the front office when you came through?"

"Uh, no." Walter wondered what a girl had to do with seeing the crime scene.

"Lottie! Lottie!"

The professor who was nearly as tall as Walter stood and went to the door. The cords on his neck stood out while he bellowed, "Lottie!"

A distant cry came, "Coming professor, coming."

Shaking his head, the professor returned to his desk and made a mark on a paper.

"Yes, professor?"

The most beautiful woman Walter had ever seen in his life entered the room. Her skin was blue-black and her fluffy black hair was wrapped in a lively batik scarf which was knotted at the back with the tails laying down her back. Though she barely came up to Walter's armpit level, she carried herself as if she was much taller. She oozed everything Walter had ever dreamed of when it came to femininity.

"Show this man to the room where the so called bomb was." Nostromo didn't even bother to look up to drink in this exquisiteness.

As if seeing him for the first time, she looked up and, smiling, melted Walter's heart into his shoes. "Follow me, please."

It took every bit of restraint Walter could summon not to say out loud, 'anywhere in the universe.'

Lottie remained silent until the two were in the devastated chem. Lab and the door was closed. Then she stuck out her hand and said, "Hi, I'm Lottie Nagolo. I should apologize for Nostromo but actually, he's in a good mood today."

Walter drew back in surprise, "Then I hope I'm done before he switches to the bad mood. I'm Walter Simmons, by the way."

"What is it you need to do, Walter?"

"First, I need to hope no one has disturbed the scene since the blast."

"Not a soul. The building services need to confirm no structural damage was done and I wouldn't sign a request for that until the police had been here."

Walters mind became soft scrambled eggs as this lady showed her intelligence. "What do you do here to know so much about this kind of thing?" It was hard to talk through the wide smile.

"I'm a grad student and the. I hope one day to be a CSI lab rat. It doesn't sound like much, I know, but it's what I want.

"Hey, watch your terminology there. I was once one of those lab rats." Walter had bent down to see what was on the floor.

Lottie had bent down too and when chided she stood and threw her hands up to her face. "Oh man! Hoof'n'mouth has struck again. Count on me to say the wrong thing. It's probably why I'm the only one who would agree to be Nostromo's teaching assistant."

Walter looked up, relieved this magical dream was showing some humanity after all. "Oh, get over yourself. I was proud to be a lab rat."

Scrunching down again, Lottie asked, "Is it hard to get into the CSI lab, to work, I mean?"

"Like Fort Knox. We've got one of the best labs in the U.S., all of the modern equipment."

Lottie threw her head back, "Oh-h-h-h what I wouldn't give to at least see it."

Walter couldn't believe his luck. "Here's one of my cards. Call me; I can arrange for a tour of the place."

Looking at the card as if it was made of gold, she said, "You mean it? Gosh, if I'd thought this is all it would take, I'd have blown this place up long ago."

"Yeah and you'd have been taking a tour from a vantage point you wouldn't want, believe me. Now, if you don't mind, can I ask you some questions about the scene here?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Well, first, Nostromo said this kind of thing was done every four or five years. What did he mean?"

"Oh, it's kept all hush-hush and all, but kids have been pulling this kind of thing since forever. They load up a glass jar with ball bearings or rocks, add potassium chlorate, put it on a lathe and leave. They usually do this in the late evening when everyone else has left. They come back the next day and act all surprised like everyone else."

"How many people get injured from this dumbass prank?"

"I've never heard of a one. For one, they don't put in enough potassium chlorate to make much of a blast. For another, almost no one stays very late so it's easy to tell when the building is empty. Custodians clean up early in the evening and only under supervision because they don't know what will blow up, dissolve everything or just make poisonous gas."

Walter shook his head. "Maybe I went to the wrong school but I swear that never happened. Maybe it was because I majored in bio-chemistry. So, would you say the damage here is about average for a prank blast?"

Looking around, Lottie nodded. "I never thought of what average would be, but I guess so. The deal here isn't to destroy, only to cause havoc, break a lot of glass, that kind of thing."

Standing up, Walter shook his head, "What kind of container would you say was used to hold the rocks and potassium chlorate?"

"A lab jar." She pointed at an undamaged section where a shelf held several wide mouthed jars. Each held corks through which hollow glass stems where placed. "Those stems can be replaced with glass rods to plug up the jar." She looked around and spotted what she wanted. "Over there, you can see another lathe just like what was used for the explosion."

Walter remembered the days of spinning bottles of liquid over Bunsen burners and then condensing the offput and analyzing what had happened. Suddenly it all made sense! "Lottie, can you excuse me a moment? I need to make a really, really important phone call. Don't leave, though, I still need you."

"Wolfe? I think I got a major break in the case. Do you remember in your chem lab days when you had to separate out components in a liquid?"

Wolfe had only begun to assemble the glass jar from the shards found at Eileen Rogomar's workshop and he was in no mood to relive college memories. "Only vaguely. Can you give me a clue as to where you're going with this?"

"Remember what it involved, the hardware, not the analysis?

Okay, he'd play the silly game. He thought for a moment. You mean the lathe and all the glass tubing?"

"Most importantly the lathe and the glass jar!"

"Oh jeeze! The old potassium chlorate with ball bearings trick! Now I remember."

"You know about that? I never heard of it. What was I doing, living under a rock?"

"Just find out who did the lab explosion, buddy. I promise to have all the moss scraped off your rock and have it all nice and cozy for you when you come home."

"Gosh, I can hardly wait." Walter hung up his phone and turned to the waiting Lottie. She had the obvious look of impatience about her. "I apologize for that. We lab rats have to keep in contact with each other."

Her hard look softened as she shook her head. "I'm just impatient to see you do your CSI thing, I guess."

Walter obliged her by opening the case he'd set by his feet. "First, I put on rubber gloves."

Three hours later, he had every bit of the broken glass loaded into boxes. He didn't think there was snowballs chance in the Sahara of assembling it all. Try as hard as he could to find something else to look for, he was finished. "And I know I've asked this three times already but just in case, aside from plain stupidity, did anyone have it in for anyone in the Chemistry Department in any way?"

"And I've told you that first, stupidity at a college is a given and half of the kids have it in for anyone and everyone. Chem students especially hate the safety rules they have to follow. They hate the teachers, they hate us assistants. In fact, when I think about it, anyone who doesn't hate us isn't doing the work."

Walter sighed and put out his hand. "In that case, my work here is done. If you think of anything, hear anything, find anything, call me. If that doesn't happen, call me anyway because you wouldn't want to miss a tour through the lab, would you?"

The queenly face with the high forehead broadened into a smile. "Would tomorrow be too soon?" Seeing the look of consternation on Walter's face, she giggled and said, "I'm kidding! Not till day after tomorrow for sure."

"So, do we know who did it?" Wolfe didn't take his eyes from the bit of glass he was about to fit into the growing assemblage of the jar he'd been working on.

"No but I may have the way finding them."

Missing the plural, Wolfe asked, "And what way would that be?"

Walter waited for Wolfe to get done with gluing in the piece of glass. He then dramatically laid a box on the counter. "This and two more like it."

Ryan nearly fainted when he saw the carton of glass shards. "No, you didn't. You wouldn't!"

Stepping into the hallway and bringing in another box Walter answered, "I didn't have a choice. It's evidence." He walked out and retrieved the third and last box.

"Was there anything else in the way of evidence?" The lack of belief at what he saw was still clear.

"Not much. There was some trace, which I think contains the potassium chlorate. I'm pretty sure that's the link in the first two. According to Lottie, it's the blast creator of choice. According to you too."

"Lottie?"

"Teaching assistant who helped me. She wants to be a CSI and shows promise. She kept the crime scene from being contaminated."

"So, Lottie knew about the trick?"

"I think I'm the only one in the world who doesn't know about it. According to her version, it's usually a group of kids who do it as a prank."

"I seem to remember the ones who did it at my school bragged about it. This was before 9/11 so all they got was a slap on the wrist."

"Which means that today, no one is going to say nuttin'."

"You bring in the lathe?"

"Yup and the ball bearings."

"Well, different from the rocks anyway."

"You think there's any connection?"

"Has to be. It's all too close. We just don't see it yet."

Walter backed away. "Well, my job here is done. Good luck."

Ryan ran around the table he'd been working at and ducked between the largest man in the lab and the doorway. The look on his face was formidable. "You just try to leave this room without sorting out the glass."

Walter actually loved it when someone tried to intimidate him. He reacted by hiking his shoulders up a bit which made him look taller and more massive. Then he put on his serious face and simply ask, "Or what?"

Ryan Wolfe could not be intimidated, especially not on turf with which he was so familiar. "Or I will find ways to keep you in this lab for the rest of your career."

Try as hard as he could to not show Ryan had found his weak point, he couldn't. Walter turned to face the boxes. "You sure know how to hurt a guy."

Back to his normal good natured self, Ryan settled down to his jar. "Not to worry, I'm the expert on jars at the moment so all you're going to have to do is help sort out test tubes, tubing and anything that is least likely to have been used."

Walter looked at the twenty-four inch square boxes doubtfully. "Yeah, all."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Horatio was a napper. He could take advantage of any quiet moment, fall asleep quickly and then, like the flip of a switch, be alert and ready to go. Yelina admired that in him. She could stay awake for eighteen to twenty-four hours at a stretch, even more, but she had a limit. And she didn't dare fall asleep when on watch. If she napped, she felt drugged when she awoke. She couldn't think for the first five minutes though she thought she could probably wield a gun. At that, it took her up to fifteen minutes to feel fully alert. She had once heard that Peter Ustinov, the actor, had said that he shouldn't be asked to perform a murder scene the first thing in the morning because, it wasn't that he couldn't kill someone at that time it's just that he would have no motive for doing so. That's how she felt when coming out of a nap. She could wake up easier from a full night's sleep.

All of this and more wandered through Yelina's mind as she watched the easy rise and fall of Horatio's chest. He had taken Ray's place on the couch after he returned from dumping the lunch trash and had been asleep in thirty seconds. She knew that before she could fall asleep, she would have to hitch and toss a couple of times before getting comfortable enough.

Oddly, she'd never known if her husband Ray could fall asleep easily or not. He wasn't home enough and when he was, he was out and active most of the time. He did fall asleep after sex but that didn't count. Did he take naps like his brother when working a case, when undercover? She had no idea

She had to work now at staying awake. The room was quiet, the voices behind the closed door rose and fell at a regular rhythm. She hitched her position in the chair, trying to get comfortable. The opening door startled her.

Yelina didn't even have to look to see Horatio rise. She could feel his presence ease over to the other side of her son as she rose to stand by him. Both of them looked expectantly to Lafayette.

"Your son is an open book, Mrs. Caine. I'm completely convinced of his innocence. I talked with the police and they said they came to the same conclusion."

"So, what is the next step?"

"There's no reason why he can't join the general population and continue his schooling. The school is small and entirely enclosed. We'll follow our usual routine and cancel all leaves until the matter is entirely cleared up."

Out of the corner of her eye, Yelina saw Horatio step forward. "It may be that it will never be cleared up."

All business now, Lafayette gave the impression, at least, of knowing what he was doing. "What is the average solve time using forensic proof?"

Horatio had only been asked that question by people that were higher up in the command food chain than he was. Instead, however, of using the standard doublespeak of the business, he came out with it. "Two weeks. That is, we usually either come up with proof in that time or we don't. We're talking about all test results, fingerprint comparisons, everything."

"If there has been no significant advances made in the next three weeks, let's call it a wash as far as the cadets are concerned. Until then, we'll just wait and see."

Yelina beamed at the Commander Pro Tem. "Thank you, Colonel Lafayette. I appreciate your time."

"I can only hope someone takes this kind of time with my kids when they get older and into trouble." He turned to Horatio. "I know you've been wanting some time with Cadet Caine so take as much as you like now. He'll then be able to go to dinner with the rest of his dorm and return to his normal life here."

"Does that mean I'll have to leave?"

Ray mumbled, "Mom!"

"Yes, ma'am, it does. We want all of our young men to have as close to a military life as possible."

Yelina reached out her hand. "I understand. Thank you, again."

She immediately turned to Horatio with the exact question he knew she would ask. "May I stay while you talk with him?"

Unconsciously bending his head over to one side, indicating he was completely in tune with the other person, he whispered gently, "Of course, Yelina."

Once they were all settled, young Ray's answer to the first question was, "No, I don't think there was anyone else in the front office." He thought for a second and continued. "Thinking on it, all I could see was the light coming through the partly opened door from the commander's office. I didn't think to look at the corner. Was there someone else there?"

"We don't know yet. When I went in there, I could see a number of places where someone might stand in the shadows and not be noticed."

Rather than ask if anyone had anything against him, Horatio took the other tact and asked who Ray had made friends with.

"I guess George and Mike don't have all that much against me." Ray smiled in a way to indicate that he was joking. "No, really, I seem to get along with most of the guys as long as I don't trip over my own feet. We have to do a lot of lock step marching and when I'm not concentrating I foul up the whole thing and the others give me what for." His smile told both of the adults he didn't mind the process.

"Tell me step by step what you remember of going into the office." He could only hope that he was putting the question in way no one else had as yet.

Ray's thick brows knit, unraveled, and knit again as he tried to picture what had happened. "I was nervous about the conference and all I could see was that door with the light shining through. I knocked, announced myself, and my purpose and got no answer. I did it again and a third time. Finally I pushed the door open and peeked inside expecting to really get chewed out for not waiting for permission to enter. I looked around, waiting for the explosion. Finally, I saw this arm sticking out from the desk and ran around. Commander Trainer was laying face down, one arm out and the other arm kind of up against the desk like he had slipped. There was a big puddle of blood on the floor around his head too. Then I saw the statue on the floor. I told you I picked it up, didn't I?"

Horatio nodded. Before his nephew could continue he interjected a question. "Were you aware of any sounds while you were in the inner office?"

"No, nothing, except for the usual creaking that old buildings make. My dorm groans something awful in the middle of the night. These buildings are nearly a hundred years old."

"Corey Anchiova had an appointment just before yours. Did you see him?"

Ray searched his memory. "I think I saw Mr. Anchiova's car leave as I was crossing the square to get to the main office building. Maybe Corey left before that but I didn't see him anywhere." Suddenly Ray's face opened into realization. "Do you think Corey or Mr. Anchiova did it?"

Horatio shook his head. "I don't know, son. Right now, I don't think anything." He didn't want to send Ray on any witch hunt among his fellows.

Yelina cautioned, "Ray, you know what I've told you about jumping to conclusions. Right now, the police and Horatio are just gathering information. You know we ask some questions just to see if you're paying attention to what you've said before."

"I haven't asked you a single question about anything that you didn't talk about or that wasn't general information. Do you understand?" Horatio could tell Ray was disappointed.

"Yes sir. I understand."

"You also have to understand that if you remember anything, you don't call me, you call Natalia. She's in charge on this case. I can't touch it because you're my nephew. In fact, Ms. Boa Vista will be in to ask you a couple of questions once she's finished going over Trainer's office."

"Can't I tell Mom?"

It was Yelina's turn to speak. "I'm not part of murder investigation anymore, you know that. Besides, if I were, I'd still be barred for the same reason your uncle can't be part of it."

Ray sighed heavily.

"You know you can trust Ms. Boa Vista just as much as you can me, don't you?"

Ray considered the matter and seemed to resign himself to the idea. His chest heaved again.

"Colonel Lafayette said you should return to your regular activities when we're done. I think it's time. Give your mom a hug and say goodbye."

Ray didn't need urging to fall into his mother's welcoming embrace. "You call me when they say you can."

"I will." He turned to Horatio. "Thanks Uncle Horatio. I know you're not supposed to be talking with me on this because we're related and all. Still, I appreciate it."

"No problem Ray. We just need to get some more answers now. You go along." He dropped his hand from the boy's shoulders as a gesture that it was time to part.

The teen seemed to have no problem leaving. He walked down the short hall and through the door that led to the dorm.

Yelina turned slowly from the open doorway. "I don't want to leave him, Horatio."

"Neither do I, but we're going to have to. I have a couple more questions for Colonel Lafayette and then I'll leave too."

Yelina picked up her purse. "I'll repeat Ray, Jr.'s thoughts and thank you again. I hope there are no repercussions." Quickly and quietly, she left the room.

Nearly twenty-four hours and very little sleep and she somehow looked much the same as she had when she walked into the restaurant the night before. Horatio wondered how she did it.

He turned and went to knock on the door. At the invitation to enter he opened it to find Lafayette just hanging up the phone with a look as if he was relieved not to have to put in another call.

"Colonel Lafayette, I have a couple of questions if you don't mind."

"How can I help you?"

"First, a member of the investigation team will need to talk to Mr. Anchiova. He and his son Corey were apparently the last ones to see Commander Trainer alive. Would you happen to have his address handy?"

"I do." He took out a scrap of paper and looking at a thick book of printed names and addresses, he copied the information. "Anything else?"

"I think there was one other adult, non-personnel, on campus at the time of the murder. A rep from CPS?"

"Child Protective Services? Oh yes, Ms. Fontana is a regular visitor. I know Bea quite well. She used to come more often but we're still on her roster for a couple of times a month, I guess. Since we're a boarding school, she makes sure we treat the kids well and are up to spec on all the health and safety codes."

"I noticed that she didn't leave until late in the evening."

"She comes at all hours."

"Would she have any reason to talk to Commander Trainer?"

"Yeah, all the time. He was her first contact if there was any issue. Frankly, for a while, I thought there was something going on between the two of them. If there was, it stopped about three months ago."

"Oh?"

"She quit coming around so often then. Just before that, I thought I heard raised voices between them coming from his office a time or two."

"Thank you for the information, Colonel. I'll pass it on to the investigator. She'll do the actual investigation."

"I hope you catch the son of a bitch, sir. I thought of Trainer as a pat-self-on-back type but, on the whole, he did really well for the school. I'm not sure I can handle the job."

"You seem to be doing well so far."

Lafayette ran his hand over the top of his head. "I don't think I'm cut out for the job. I can do it for a while but I'd just as soon go back to being a bean counter."

Horatio smiled at the familiar words. Too many people he knew had said the same thing.

Though she knew she didn't have to, Natalia found Horatio after she left the commander's office and told him she was done. "I found several pieces of evidence that didn't seem to jibe with the crime scene. I'm surprised the night team didn't pick them up. I'm not even sure they are relevant."

"Just do what you can with them. Hand the reports to Nacimiento and then let me know, alright?"

"You can be sure I will. I also found a few other items in the trash that may or may not have anything to do with anything. I'll see what I can do with them as well."

"Thank you, Natalia."

"You're welcome."

"Oh, Natalia, I talked with the temporary commander and I got the address of Mr. Anchiova. He and his son may have been the last ones to see Trainer before he was killed. Also, a Bea Fontana was on the school grounds at the time of the murder. She is an agent from Child Protective Services. According to Lafayette, she and Trainer may have had some sort of personal relationship."

Natalia took the paper from Horatio and then wrote the agent's name in her book. "I'll check with Detective Nacimiento to see if he plans to talk with these people or would like me to."

She turned and looked around as if seeking something. "I guess that's the way into the dorm area?" At Horatio's nod she continued, "Okay, I'll find Ray and ask him some questions."

Natalia took a look at Horatio's silent stance and guessed at what it meant. "I'll try to be quick. I only have a couple of questions."

Seeing his thankful nod, she turned and left.

Driving away, Horatio analyzed the captain's words and the tone of voice. If nothing else, Lafayette couldn't or wouldn't consider that any of the cadets was capable of the crime. He was almost of the same mind himself. Only proof would convince him, however.

To keep his mind alert, even though he wasn't supposed to, he reviewed what he knew of the facts of the case. A gum wrapper, carefully folded on itself meant someone had spent time with nothing to do in that area. Whether it had been tossed there by someone seated in one of the chairs or dropped by someone behind the chairs was yet to be seen. Just before the murder, a parent and a cadet had been in the commander's office. He had interviewed the student, Corey Anchiova, and was fairly certain there had been no blood on his uniform. Nor had the boy seemed unsettled in any way. He had most certainly lied about the outcome of the interview but Horatio doubted that he could have committed a murder and remained so offhanded. That left Mr. Anchiova in the office. Ray had seen his car leave only moments before his own appointment. That meant there was a space of time when Commander Trainer was alone, perhaps still alive. The only other person not accounted for in this scenario was Bea Fontana, who, according to Lafayette, had perhaps had, at one time, a close personal relationship with Trainer. What had ended it? Was the end a bit rancorous? Had she been in the office? Hopefully, Boa Vista would find timelines for both Anchiova and Fontana.

One reason Horatio kept his boyish figure was because he was too often to busy or too tired to eat. He arrived home, showered the last twenty-eight hours of time from his body and fell into bed.

Calleigh met him at the elevator doors the next morning. "Hey handsome, a day off does wonders, doesn't it?"

"Yes, everyone should get one like the day I had," Horatio jibed back at her. "What have we got?"

"We nearly had to give Wolfe oxygen when Walter brought in three boxes of glass shards from the college lab explosion."

"Considering the amount of glass in a chemistry lab, I'm surprised there were only three boxes."

"We had to promise the help of two other techs to bring him around. According to the information Walter got from the teaching assistant, there isn't much this one and the two other bombings have in common except for the potassium chlorate and the glass container. This one was purely a common prank and the other two were one; obviously a preparation for the next one and two; commission of a preplanned assault resulting in death. The prank was purely mischief."

"Any hints yet as to who did the bombing in the school?"

"Not yet. My sense is that we're going to get further finding who had something against our victim."

"And?"

"Nothing so far. The woman's son swears she was a saint."

"Isn't it amazing how quickly a halo forms around our dead friends and relatives?"

"I just have one teensy little problem, right now."

"Which is?"

"Well, when I'm not interviewing people for two cases, I'm looking at evidence and Natalia is interviewing people on the Academy case and analyzing evidence and Eric is still analyzing evidence. Walter and Ryan are up to their ears in glass. This means we're short of interviewers." Up until this time, they had been walking the hallway, nodding to lab techs and fellow investigators. Now Calleigh stopped and looked up and Horatio with her most arresting smile.

The skin around his blue eyes crinkled as his lips spread. "Would it help if I interview Ms. Rogomar's son, Daniel?"

Turning around, she raised a hand and said, "Keep in touch."

The joke wasn't lost on Horatio.

"H." The burly young man displayed the best of his large lazy smiles.

"Eric, how are you doing on the evidence from the condo?"

"I got several hits from fingerprints and nothing from DNA. Fingerprints are all DMV and if the photos on the driver's licenses are up to date, none of the women are overweight."

"What about Mr. Brookline's relatives?"

"You mean someone having enough against him to shoot him in the tenders?"

"Either that or maybe knowing who he was dating."

"I'll talk to them as well as the women on the licenses. If they are now larger, that may have been a preference on his part."

"And if he was just being nice to a woman of size and she took it as being more serious…" Eric's face showed a variety of emotions. "It can get complicated, can't it?"

Horatio's look reflected his remark, "It can get downright dangerous."

"I'll get right on it."

Horatio walked lightly to the largest of the lab areas. Here, he knew, was the only place where several boxes of glass shards could be laid out. The last time he'd seen Ryan, the young man had been feeling slightly shredded at the idea of reassembling a second glass jar. No doubt Calleigh's description of his reaction to more glass had been close.

In the lab five people were weaving around each other at the great layout table. They were only at the point of finding similar shapes and laying them on the under-lit surface.

When Ryan saw Horatio, he set his box on the counter behind him and went to the doorway. "I didn't think it could get any worse."

"I think this is as bad as it can get."

"Don't say that! I'll be jinxed for life."

"How did you do on the second jar?"

"Only the victim's prints were on it. The murderer must have used gloves."

Horatio nodded at the table. "I'd look for pieces of glass with the heaviest trace on the inside portions."

Ryan raised his chin in understanding. "Ah! That would be the jar used as the bomb! Hey, guys, stop!"

Without a look back, Ryan gathered the three others and explained the newest mode of attack.

Horatio now looked for Natalia. Not finding her, he reached for his phone. "Are you on the way to Ray's school?"

Hearing her reply to the positive, he asked, "How did the conversation with Ramon go?"

Her reply brought him up short. "Oh? What exactly did he say?"

"You don't have to take that kind of language!"

Natalia's calm voice took his anger down a notch. "Still, that was a verbal attack and I want you to report it."

"Yes, you write out what was said as best as you can remember and hand it in to me. I'll hand it up the ladder of authority. No, you don't express any personal feelings except the lack of professionalism on Nacimiento's side. There will be a hearing and he'll be able to defend himself."

"Yes, since he dared you to interview someone on 'his' case, you go ahead and do it. A dare is the same as an order. And Natalia, thank you for sticking with it."

He almost said goodbye and then remembered to ask, "Who has Ray's clothing?"

He thanked her and stuck his phone in his pocket. Until now, Ramon Nacimiento had merely hinted at a feeling of antagonism towards Horatio and his team. A loud, verbal attack on anyone on his team was a call to war. He tried to ignore the idea that Natalia was the most vulnerable to attacks from vicious men. She had learned to stand up for herself, had come to understand how not to be a victim. Still, like so many, some men seemed to seek out women who had cracks in their systems. But this was more than an attack on a woman. It was obviously an effort to block a proper investigation. Why would he do that?

He was almost tempted to call Calleigh and see if she had had any flack from the head of the night shift. He ultimately decided against it. He didn't want to go on an inquisition. It could well be that Ramon had been simply less that tactful in expressing his feelings about having his territory invaded. Maybe the man was nothing more than a jerk.

Before leaving the lab, he stopped off at a small corner of the lab to talk with Travers, one of the lab techs.

"What have you got so far on the cadet uniform?"

Travers looked with uncertainty at the questioner. "Sir, I…"

"I'm not asking for conclusions."

Still hesitant at talking with the man closest to the most suspect, Travers looked for words that would give information and not get him into trouble for divulging information to a party that had no business being told anything. "Uh, I can only say that, so far, I have found no obvious signs of spatter. I did find blood on one knee and on a shoe."

Horatio's eyes dropped to the floor as he absorbed the words. It all fit in favor of Ray, so far. He nodded at looked up. "Good work, Travers." He strolled off to the elevators.

Travers let out a deep breath of relief.

Half an hour later, in the bright sunshine that was the polar opposite from the lab halls, Horatio was on the expressway, headed towards the quiet Miami Beach neighborhood that had been the scene of the bombing.

"My condolences on your loss, Mr. Rogomar. I can only guess how hard this process is for you. I assure you, I am here to gather as much information as I can to help find who did this."

The hard, glazed look on Daniel Rogomar's face was familiar to Horatio. People who were this close to crime couldn't fathom what was going on. Their world, as they knew it, had ended. Even people who were in the crime business had a hard time accepting the deaths of friends and co-workers and they were given coping mechanisms as part of their training. A victim's relatives and friends had no such equipment in their lives. Their formerly peaceful world had turned on them, had become evil. Eventually, the grief process would begin but for now, hardcore disbelief had wrapped itself around Mr. Rogomar like a shell.

With great effort, Mr. Rogomar took a breath. "What information could I possibly give?"

"Everything and anything your mother did from day to day. When did she was work on her jewelry in her shop. Where did she go when she wasn't making jewelry? Who did she see?"

"I—I'm not sure I understand. Are you asking who she saw that would want to hurt her?"

"Let me decide for now if anyone she knew would want to hurt her. Did she go shopping? Where did she get her rock polishing materials? What stores did she go to?"

"Oh, uh, well, she got most of her rock materials at the rock and gem shows where she sold her things. Some stuff, though, she got at a local place that carves statues."

"Was she successful at her craft?"

Rogomar smiled fondly. "Not really. She never had much of a head for making money. My father made all of his money in his orange grove business before he died and Mother never worked except at trying to save money. Dad used to joke that Mom was saving him out of house and home because some of her money saving efforts weren't so great. She'd buy cheap stuff at a third of the price and have to use twice the amount to get the job done. And clothes, well, if they weren't on sale, she wouldn't even think of buying.

"At the same time, you'd never find anyone who paid more attention to her personal appearance. She was almost vain! She never went out of the house in anything but slacks and blouse or a dress; never wore shorts or jeans. She always had on her makeup and every hair in place or she didn't go. Well, except when she was going to the hair salon, she'd sometimes have a scarf on, but that was the exception."

Horatio interrupted the loving memorial. "Sometimes you can buy clothing out of the back of vans in parking lots. Did she ever do that?"

"Oh, no! Never! She was always sure that stuff was stolen goods or flea ridden or both! No, she'd only go to nice stores. The only times she would shop 'down' so to speak was when she would buy personal care and makeup products. Those she'd get at the drug stores. She always said it was just as good as or better than the expensive stuff at the department stores. The only thing she would spend any money on at all was her hair. She always got her hair done down at the little shop over by the theater."

"What about her social activities? Did she attend the theater?"

Rogomar smiled fondly, "Only when there was a senior discount and a coupon of some sort. Her friends would have to buy her a full price ticket if they wanted her to go with them."

"Can you give me their names, please?"

"You're not thinking those harmless old souls could hurt anyone?"

"No, but they might know someone who would." Horatio tried not to sound too hard bitten. The man was caught in a tangle of someone else's weaving and had no idea why. Horatio didn't care why; he only knew one of the strings in the web would take him to the killer and he had a single minded purpose in finding both.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"How long did you know Ms. Rogomar?"

Horatio was seated with the elderly woman in a bower of giant honeysuckle. The flowers' fragrance was a heady part of the humid late morning. The chairs, though made of wrought iron were actually comfortable even without padding. Outside of the trellised vines was a jungle of plants, bushes, and trees. From among it all peeked a variety of outdoor knickknacks, pink flamingos, garden gnomes, and bird baths.

By the look on her face, she wasn't at all upset that a man from the police department was interviewing her about a murder. She leaned back, her cup of lemon-thyme tea in hand, her grey hair blowing freely about her face, a gentle smile on her lips.

If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was looking at a hippy leftover from the sixties. The insanely high property values of the location of the house (a vintage double wide mobile home) belied that image. Well, it takes all kinds, that's for sure.

Frieda Ianesta put a finger to her chin. "Hmm, let me think. I knew Eileen for maybe ten years? Met her at the big Rock and Gem Show that's held here in Miami every year. I liked a jewelry set she'd made and I bought it from her. We got to talking, found we both liked to go to thrift shops and eat out on occasion. We've kept in touch ever since."

"Would you know any of her other friends?"

"Sure, let me go in at get you a list." She went into her house leaving the door open.

Horatio was glad he hadn't been invited inside. He could hear a multitude of birds and see several cages through entrance way. From the sound, he could tell the entire home was devoted to feathers and beaks. Apparently from the overabundance of plants in the tiny yard as well as the birds, this lady was one who thought more wasn't enough.

"Here you are." Ms Ianesta handed him a list headed 'Red Hat Seahorse Society'. "We meet for lunch on the second and fourth Tuesdays of each month. We all have a list of each other's names and addresses."

"Seahorse?"

"Oh, it's not the Seahorse part that's significant but the Red Hat. You never hear of us?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Well, that's not important. We're just groups of women over the age of fifty who get together to do what we think is fun. Some groups play stupid games, some go to sporting events and this group likes to go have lunch."

"Over the age of fifty?"

"Has to do with a poem that starts, 'When I am old, I shall wear purple with a red hat…' and then goes on about other ways the lady plans to break the rules society has imposed on her for so long. A few years ago, a woman started a little group working on the principles of the poem and the idea spread like wild fire. The only rule we follow is that when we meet, we wear a red hat or something like it. Silly, isn't it?"

"Ma'am, the only silly part is that men haven't evolved that far yet."

"Oh, sweetie, you just won my heart. The only thing that's wrong with this whole line we're walking here is that none of these women would want to hurt Eileen. I mean, once she understood that our little meetings weren't the place to sell her jewelry she never mentioned it again and we all got along fine with her. We're just a social group who jabber for an hour or so over lunch a couple of times a month."

"Thank you for the tea, Ms. Ianesta. It was very nice."

"I hate to see you leave so quickly, but c'est la vie. I hope I can be of help some other time."

Back on the expressway, Horatio had to agree with Ms. Ianesta's assessment of Eileen Rogomar's friends; they sounded harmless and were merely social. Okay, on to the next group of acquaintances.

Horatio shook a dust covered hand. "Mr. Lorello?"

After revealing his identity, Horatio explained the purpose of his visit. "What was your relationship with Mrs. Rogomar?"

The short, sparsely built man, blinked up at the detective for several seconds. He put a finger in his ear and dug at it a moment. "I'm not so sure I understand." His Italian accent was distinct but not so heavy his words weren't recognizable.

"Was your relationship personal or business?"

Lorello's eyes widened in alarm. "Personal? Meez Rogomar with me? No! I marry! She too old! No!"

Waiting for him to run out of steam, Horatio scanned the work yard, looking at the blocks of coral and stone. The one the man had quit when he entered the yard was the bare outline of what looked to be a native American. Almost before the last words came out of the sculptor's mouth Horatio asked, "Did she buy stone from you?"

All smiles now, Lorello made a wide gesture. "Ah, yes, much! She like the red coral and the black diorite. They are only scraps to me but still good for people who want them."

"I understand she liked to get a good bargain."

Lorello sighed heavily and hung his head. "Ah, yes, some time ago, every time we argue, argue over price. I no like to argue but I think she like."

"Did it make you angry?"

The little man's mustache wiggled over the top of his lip. "Ah, yes, much. Then my wife come up with idea molto buona. She tell me to say a price much higher than what I want and then let the lady go to the price I would want. It work and I no get so angry any more." He raised his arms and spread out his hands.

"You have a very smart wife. I'd keep her if I were you."

"I'm Catholic, I have no choice." The smile belied the remark.

The rest of the day followed much along the same line. Neither friends nor business associates had anything against Eileen Rogomar. She sounded like a harmless woman of the elite retired class so abundant in Miami. Her jewelry business was more like a polite hobby that kept her busy when she wasn't shopping for bargains or socializing. The worst she had ever been was annoying, if the reports he heard were accurate. Certainly, she had never threatened or been threatened.

Natalia Boa Vista had long ago recognized the rants of petty tyrants in the business world. She didn't like to be the subject of the lunatic ravings she had heard from Nacimiento this morning, but she couldn't work and not come across it on occasion. It was the price she paid for not hiding at home.

Worse, however, was what she was putting up with now.

"A woman cop! Hot!" These were the first words out of Corey Anchiova's mouth as he flopped himself into the chair opposite her.

Instead of words, Father Anchiova's heavy lidded eyes staring out of the deep, dark holes beneath his thick brows seemed to assess her as if he was judging whether his son's words rang true. His measuring gaze ran from her pelvis to her breasts, up to her face, and down again.

They were all sitting in the empty junior barracks. Corey had been called out of class when his father arrived.

Pretending she was unaware of the rude behavior, she began. "Mr. Anchiova, you had an evening appointment with Commander Trainer just before he was found dead."

"More like a social meeting." His voice drawled lazily and then he slurped in a way that gave the impression he had ill fitting dentures. "Kelsey and I have been friends for many years."

"Detective Caine said Corey had told him that the meeting was to discuss whether he was ready to advance to the senior dorm."

Quickly Corey interjected, "And he said I could, right, old man?"

Unpleasant sparks shot from the caverns of hell at his son. "He did and as soon as the school is back to a normal schedule, I'm sure you will."

Natalia didn't know what had just happened but she was sure both father and son were hiding something between them.

"Corey, had you been in the outer office before the meeting started?"

Zander Anchiova looked sharply at his son before answering. "Why do you ask, Detective?"

"A gum wrapper, carefully folded, was found on the floor behind the chairs in the front office. It had your son's fingerprints on it."

"So? Trainer called me into his office a lot. Maybe it fell out of my pocket one time when I was waiting."

Speaking quickly before Mr. Anchiova could defend his offspring, Natalia said, "The wrapper was behind the chairs. Why would you have been standing there? It's a pretty tight squeeze to get back into the corner like that."

"God! I don't know how it got there! I mean, maybe someone took it and threw it there to make it look like I was there! That Ray kid, he's the one accused so maybe he did it."

"Mr. Anchiova, did you and you son leave the office at the same time or did one of you leave first?"

A look passed between the two. Natalia knew that whatever he said, both would stick with that story. It was one of the problems with having to interview two people at the same time. They could coordinate their stories. Unfortunately, because Corey was a minor, she had had no choice.

"We were assured that Corey would be moved to the Senior Dorm by the end of the next day and we both left at the same time."

"I understand you have donated several large sums of money to the Rattner Academy." Natalia had done her homework.

Her remark had the desired effect. The answer was too pat and came too quickly. "It's a good tax write off."

Natalia put on her predator-closing-in-on-the-prey smile. "It also buys good grades for misbehaved boys who haven't done so well in other schools."

The shift of the body in the chair showed a lowered comfort level. "Boys misbehave when they are misunderstood. Sometimes, funds can buy time for understanding."

Instead of looking embarrassed or uncomfortable to have his past revealed, Corey acted as if he were amused.

"What would the advantage be to Corey to have him in the Senior Dormitory?"

"You mean besides being at his grade level? He would be with his peers. That will be very important in his future. Men," he paused for emphasis, "form bonds for life in schools. The longer he has to form the friendships, the clearer his path will be."

"We found a mark on Commander Trainer's blotter that indicated he was denying the advance."

Without so much as a blink, Anchiova answered, "Kelsey's first response was to say no. He was concerned that Corey hadn't had time to catch up on his studies. Further into the interview, however, he did change his mind."

Looking at the ostentatiously large watch on his wrist, Anchiova rose to his feet. His son did the same. "All you have is a gum wrapper and an appointment we had with Trainer some time before his death. Thank you for telling us. I think we are done here. You can call my lawyer if there's anything else."

There was something else, but until the t's were crossed and i's were dotted she didn't want to say it. It could turn out to be nothing anyway. For now, the essential information had been gathered.

Bea Fontana was harder to track down. Like most people who worked in the Miami-Dade Child Protective Services she had too many cases to work on. Once Natalia had convinced the main CPS office of her official business and gotten Ms. Fontana's cell number, it was still a matter of trying to meet her at various addresses. For the first two hours, she was missing her by ten minutes, then fifteen, then five and ten. Finally, Natalia witnessed her going into a dilapidated duplex surrounded by more dust than grass. There were several broken toys in the yard and a large barking dog that had been tied to the outside of the fence.

Ten minutes later, she saw two black women standing at the door. One had a baby on her hip and looked like she was talking too much and too fast. The other was dressed in a tailored jacket and slacks who was simply trying to get a word in edgewise.

A moment later, the woman in business attire approached Natalia. "Hi, you must be Ms. Boa Vista. I'm so sorry about this merry-go-round but it's my life as I know it. Have you had lunch yet? I'm starved."

Driving into the late afternoon sun into the police department underground garage to leave the Hummer, Horatio actually felt a bit of satisfaction that he had come up with so little. Not only did failure keep him humble, it reminded him how hard his team worked for the successes they had. It also forced him to work to look at the cause of death as a puzzle. All of the pieces were all there; some were in disarray and a few were probably hiding in plain sight. It was just a matter of finding them and putting them together.

The elevator doors opened on the lab floor to reveal Horatio leaning against the chrome hand railing, one hand up to his chin while the elbow was supported on the arm wrapped at his waist. He almost missed getting off because of the depth of his thought.

No one, however, would have guessed what was on his mind by the way he smoothly pushed away from the wall and entered the hall. He had shifted gears and become the head of the lab, checking on the progress of various departments.

Calleigh had left him a message that she was out checking on the dumpsters and trash cans for the murder weapon within a mile radius of Brookline's condo. She had included that she was glad the place wasn't conveniently near a body of water which was the favorite dump site for most guns.

Natalia was still out and Eric was out gathering information at bars.

Just as he recalled that Ryan was still up to his hips in glass, he heard a loud cheering sound from the other side of the lab. 'Something good,' he hoped.

Entering the lab with the layout table, Horatio saw that Ryan had set up a fuming chamber.

"Hey Horatio, we got a print!"

Working on the advice Horatio had given him, Ryan had simplified the glass sorting procedure by looking for glass that had evidence of blast on the inner surface only. Still, it had taken eight hours to find the tiny shards and assemble them. Once done, a fuming chamber had been set up around what was mostly glue around bits of glass. What Horatio had heard was the joy that a print had appeared. Now they were hoping for more.

"Even one is great. I just hope it has enough ridge detail to be readable."

"He also hopes it's in AFIS," quipped Walter.

Horatio walked to the chamber and gazed at the bottle shaped object. "You did a good job at putting it all together. The lines between the breaks across the print shouldn't obscure the ridges too much.

"Walter, does the school have any fingerprints on file?"

"Yeah, thumb prints on the I.D. cards"

Ryan was leaning with one hand on the table, his eyes glued to the bottle surrounded by fumes from the heated pan of super glue. "We can only hope whoever it was grabbed the bottle with the whole hand and then set it onto the cradle in the same way."

"Yeah, if he thought the thing was going to be blown to smithereens, he wouldn't have thought to hide his prints. Little did he know the super powers of us forensic folk."

Everyone paused to look at Walter in askance. He ignored the stares.

Earlier, Bea Fontana started her talk with Natalia by saying, "I hope you don't mind being commandeered for a lunch date. I have to talk to people on the fly all the time and seldom even get time for a proper lunch."

"No, in fact, this makes it easier to talk."

"Doesn't it though? I wish even a few of the people on my list had time to just sit and talk. Most of them don't even know what lunch without kids and yelling and squalor means, poor dears."

Natalia felt almost intimidated by the rather formal surroundings of the tearoom style restaurant. One look at the list of teas and she was ready to bolt for the door. It looked like a formal list of wines and just as incomprehensible. "Uh, what do you usually have to drink here?"

"My favorite is that one near the bottom, the Desert Blend."

"What is that?"

"I'm not sure what is in it but several years ago, I visited the Mojave Desert. It rained one afternoon and this tea tastes like what I smelled there. I guess it's sage and flowers and stuff. If you're not into new and different, then the Earl Grey is pretty good."

"No, no, I'll try the Desert Blend."

She even tried cucumber sandwiches after Bea had explained that the chef was Cuban and would never deign to serve anything as bland as traditional English food.

"Wow!" was her reaction after the first bite. Eyes watering, she hastily gulped her glass of ice water.

"Instead of plain butter to spread on the bread, he mixes cream cheese with powdered chili peppers. Interesting, isn't it?"

"That took me by surprise. I guess I was expecting bland, blah. Yeah, I really like the combination." She took another, smaller mouthful and enjoyed the sensation of the spicy bite on her tongue with the cool with the white bread to smooth it all out.

Both of the women ate a little more before Natalia spoke again. "I understand the Rattner School was part of your beat?"

The almost girlish face grinned impishly. "You also heard of my affair with Trainer? And the breakup?"

Natalia nodded, "That too."

Speaking as easily as if she was saying 'good morning,' Bea went on, "That man had more charm in his little finger than most men do in their… well in the other charming part of their bodies. As soon as we met, it was lust at first sight. I tried not to get serious. I mean, after all, this was supposed to be business. The idea that a little pleasure got into it just made it, well, pleasant. But, I forgot and I got serious and Kelsey backed away faster than most men can run forward."

"I bet that was painful."

Bea stared down at the table as if looking at photos. "Not really. I mean, no more than coming home from a great vacation. You know how it is; you can go to a wonderful spot for a vacation and think it would be great to live there and almost believe it. Then, you have to pack up and check out and go home. It's reality."

"You gave him a gift, I believe?"

"The little Iwo Jima statue, yes. Did you find it on his desk?"

"Had you ever thought of taking it back?"

"Whatever for? His father had fought on Iwo Jima and Kelsey was proud of that fact. I gave him the statue for his birthday. Oh, I get it. You think I was mad at him? That I would have wanted to take the statue back? Hardly. We parted amicably because he was so honest about his feelings. It was all me, and once I had a nice cry, and got over myself, I was okay."

"You were on campus the night he was killed. What were you doing there so late?"

"I was way behind schedule. Besides, since Rattner is a 7/24 schedule, I have to check on it at all times of the day or night. I was poking around the afterhour's kitchen, looking under the stoves and refrigerators for bugs or grease, making sure the trash was dumped, all that sort of thing. Then I was going to go to the Senior Dormitory only I got an emergency call to go rescue one of my kids from arguing parents. I guess I left just before all hell broke loose. I had to take the child into custody for the night until the parents cooled down. I was doing paperwork until midnight."

While she spoke, Bea cupped her elbows in each hand and rubbed them. Her brows knit as she finished talking.

"Are you okay?" Natalia asked.

"Oh, years ago, I wrecked both of my elbows in an advanced Tai Kwon Do class. I was supposed to dive, tuck, and roll only I forgot to tuck and roll. I hit the hands full force and the shock to the elbows put me in the hospital. They tried operations but it still hurts and I don't have full power in either arm. I guess I never will."

"Isn't that dangerous for someone in your line of work? I mean, could you defend yourself if you had to?"

Bea's face shone. "I could defend myself but just barely. As it is, I couldn't do much damage back to an attacker even if I wanted to. Since I follow the way of the Buddha, I don't. Of course, there are many other ways to hurt someone besides the use of the hands but, still, I would rather not."

Natalia could see that Bea couldn't have swung the death blows on Trainer.

Eric wasn't fond of going into nightclubs in daylight hours even if it was nearly sunset. Even though the windowless insides were dark, there was none of the night magic in them. Without twinkling lights, throbbing beats, shouting, liquored up dancers and all the rest of the night time insanity, clubs were more like houses of dowdy old women than halls of Bacchus. On the other hand, it made his job easier. The few people in the clubs wanted to drink alone and the bartenders were taking their time in setting up for the night shift.

For the fifth time, he asked a bartender "Does this man look familiar?"

For once, he was rewarded for his persistence.

"Beer with rum chaser, yeah, who wouldn't remember that?"

"Anything else you remember about him?"

A shrug of the shoulders. "Yeah. He had half way decent looks. Any time he was at the bar to order drinks, he had the girls all over him."

"Any in particular?"

The bartender looked at him and made a face. "I'm makin' drinks, takin' orders and tryin' to keep it all straight. Who has time to notice particulars?"

"Anyone here who would take time?"

"Carol! This guy wants some info." The man behind the bar motioned to a girl seated in the corner.

Taking her time, the woman with half of her top half popping out of her blouse and the bottom half encased in pants that left nothing to the imagination rose and approached Eric. "What? Oh, you're a cop. No drugs being sold here, sweetie. Asked and answered." She almost turned around.

"Please, ma'am, this guy was murdered yesterday. I'm just trying to get some information about him." Eric showed her the morgue photo.

"Ew! Oh, yuck, put it away! Alright, what do you want to know about Gunter?"

"You knew him by name?"

"Sure. When a guy feels you up like he did me all the time, you at least want to know his name."

The bartender's jaw dropped. "Carol, what have we told you about touching?"

The bar light caught the woman's features just as she wheeled to face her opponent and revealed a slightly aging face. "Whatever brings in the tips, baby. He was never obvious about it. All he ever did was run his hand up between my legs while I took his order."

"I understand the ladies liked him. Would you know who any of them were?"

The waitress gave a lingering gaze at the bartender which said that the battle wasn't over yet and then turned her attention to Eric. "Only by sight. If he came in alone, all of the women would have a try at him but sometimes he came in with a date. I seldom saw the same date more than three or four times though."

"Were there any types he seemed to prefer? Blonds, brunettes, heavy, slender, well built on top?" Eric didn't want to bias any observations.

"Yeah, all that and more. He didn't seem to care, just so they were identifiably female. His buddies were pretty much the same when they trailed along."

"With that many women, were there ever any confrontations?"

Carol had to think on that one. "Gosh, this is a bar. With liquor as fuel, confrontations are part of the atmosphere as much as the smell." She thought a bit longer. "I think I remember a woman who came in and started shouting at him. Do you remember that Mike?"

The bartender rolled his eyes, searching for the memory. "Kind'a."

"Usually, when a woman feels misused and abused, she'll come in and fight with the other woman. I didn't hear much but I remember it because she was talking about Arizona and a cousin of hers."

"Was this woman what you'd call 'of size'?"

Carol nodded. "As a matter of fact, I guess she was. Jeez! If you already knew who it was, why go through all of this?"

Eric put on his most engaging grin. "I didn't know for sure and it was only your information that gave me the idea."

Carol looked proud of herself. "Well, gee, ain't I good?"

"Does this woman come in now?"

Both Carol and Mike shook their heads, agreeing that, even if she did, she'd be lost in the crowds.

Eric asked the both of them to come into the lab when they could and give a description of the woman to one of their artists.

That evening he was surprised when Maxine insisted he tell her everything that happened.

TBC

Reviews are appreciated


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Why do you want to hear about what went on today?"

"So you'll know what it's like to trust someone with some information, that's why."

"Hey, I thought that was all settled!"

Eric and Maxine were settled on the couch watching television at her little apartment. They had turned the sound off during a commercial and Maxine had surprised Eric by her question.

Maxine rolled her rich chocolate eyes. "Well-l-l, I guess it's not settled with me. I'm sorry but this is important. Besides, it's not like we're in two different departments, at odds with each other."

Eric turned to face her and taking her shoulders gently in his hands, he said, "First, come here." Then he kissed her softly first one the forehead, then the tip of her nose and finally on the lips. The kiss on the lips lingered and became sweet and then insistent.

When they parted, he was reassured by her shy smile. "Okay, Ms. Inquisitive, let me tell you of my adventures today."

Leaning back, he felt her snuggle into his chest, as one of her arms draped across his chest.

Half an hour later, like a curious child who wants to know why everything is, Maxine started questioning him. For the most part, Eric had answers to her queries until she asked, "Did you double check about the waitress hearing the word Arizona?"

"Why? Is there a word other than the name of the state?"

"Um, there's a bottled drink with that name."

Eric looked down at his favorite person in the world. "I'd forgotten about that. It's certainly something to keep in mind."

"Just don't let Horatio know I said anything."

Eric put his arms around Maxine and chuckled. "I won't, but thank you anyway. In fact, thank you so much, here's a reward." He bent and kissed her on the neck.

Maxine twisted her head around and then up, inviting more kissing. Soon the two were wound around one another, clasping and struggling as if to find ways to consume each other. If not for the giggling and laughing, an observer might have thought they were fighting. Slowly, clothing was removed, either by the other or personally.

Finally, each naked, one with eyes closed, breathing deeply, and reaching up to rub her hands over the muscular figure above her, the other drinking in every curve and rise of her figure, they were silent.

Eric paused and ripped open the small packet he'd removed from his pants pocket. Putting the contents on, he bent down and softly kissed Maxine before lowering his entire body.

"Hi, how are you doing?"

Until the moment she heard that whispery voice on the phone, Yelina had been sad, angry, worried, and frazzled. Even though she had taken the rest of the day off to get some sleep, she had pretty much failed. Maybe she had slept better in the chair last night than she had thought. Still, the aftermath of the nearly twenty-four hours had wreaked havoc on her. "I'm glad you called." Rather a non-answer than a lie.

"I know, it's rough." She heard a sigh. "We have a fair idea of what happened in the office now. Tom guesses that Trainer was bending over, perhaps to pick something up from the floor. He was struck first on the occipital lobe on the back of the head. He tried to rise and was struck again two inches back of the top of the crown on the center suture. This was killing blow. Just to make sure, however, the killer struck twice more, on the side of the head, breaking open the skull."

"So, if he was struck on the back of the top of his head as he was rising, a boy Ray's size couldn't have done it."

"Not by the scenario Tom has suggested. Also, the blood spatter patterns we got from the night crew reflect the same idea. They come from a taller person. I thought you would want to know."

"I feel better now. Thank you, Horatio."

"I wish I could work the case, feel like it was me that deserved thanks."

"You have mine as always, for caring and keeping me informed."

"In that case, you are entirely welcome."

Yelina almost said goodnight at this point but she didn't. "Horatio?"

"Yes, Yelina?"

"Could you come to my house for some dinner? I don't feel like being alone this evening."

"It will be a while before I can get away."

"I don't eat until late anyway."

She heard a brief pause. As well as she knew Horatio, she wasn't sure what it might have meant.

"Alright, I'll be there. What can I bring?"

She made up a list on the fly knowing it would make him feel uncomfortable to be told he didn't have to bring anything. "A baguette and some romaine for a salad."

"Sounds good. I'll see you a little after eight with bread and salad."

Yelina hung up before she said the words that had popped into her mind. She truly wouldn't have minded if he showed up with nothing in his hands and naked besides.

Sitting on the couch, the warm late afternoon breeze wafting in through the open patio door, she drifted into a fantasy world. It began with her standing in a simple village circle such as one would find in Central America. Surrounded by jungle, an unlikely rainbow was strung across the clear, sun filled blue sky. The huts were grass with palm frond roofs. Flowers of all sizes and varieties were abundant around each hut. Their perfume was heady. Out of nowhere and quite as unlikely, Horatio entered astride a large palomino horse. He was naked! And by sheer coincidence, so was she! As far as she knew, no one else was around so the lack of clothing was only a point of incredible interest.

Approaching very slowly, he came nearer and nearer, a gentle smile on his lips. When he stopped, the side of the horse nearly brushed up against her puckered nipples. She could feel the heat radiating from the animal, see its side rise, and fall as it calmly breathed.

Not being a rider, having no idea how she could be helped up by someone on the horse without a great deal of awkwardness, she simply imagined that she was now sitting on the horse in front of Horatio. His arms were around her, holding the reins that were braided of different colors of rawhide from which a fringe of bright feathers hung from the halter to almost where his hands grasped them.

"Comfortable?" His delicious voice bathed her ear in golden honey.

"Yes," she assured him. The warmth of his body against her back was indeed comforting.

"Then off we go."

"Where?"

He waived in the general direction of a mountain wreathed in clouds. "Over there. It will only take a minute."

If she had thought about it, surely, in a book, such a journey would have been described in great detail and taken almost as long to read as an actual journey would have taken. Unlike walks through real jungles, this one was without bugs and dangerous reptiles. At the same time, it was as luxuriously green and lush as the best of rain forests. On either side of the narrow path, she could see shadows of jaguars, lyre birds, geckos and even birds of paradise. Realistically, the trip should have taken several hours. However, her imagination had them at a beautiful clearing near the mountain top in almost no time. The ground was covered in a lush, short grass dotted with colorful flowers. The rainbow at the village had come with them. Now she was conscious of a variety birds singing their hearts out, creating a symphony of sound. Fluffy clouds floated across the blue sky. Yes, she knew a rainbow and a blue sky was purely fantasy but it was her fantasy and she was enjoying it immensely.

Horatio slid off the horse and standing close, invited her to slide into his arms. The horse seemed to know when to move. No sooner had she landed on the ground, the horse slowly walked off to graze and Horatio took her in his arms and kissed her. His body against hers felt exactly as it had those many years ago when they were a couple.

Yelina suddenly blinked, realizing she had a dinner to get together. She reluctantly left her fantasy to be continued another day.

"Frank? You here yet?"

Frank Tripp's presence in her apartment was a given by this time but she never knew when.

Calleigh inhaled and was almost relieved to find the air free of food odors. Frank was a great cook but lately, the smell of food was not her friend. At the moment, she wasn't sure which gave her more relief; the lack of aromas or the lack of Frank which would give her a chance to lie down for a minute. She collapsed on the couch and closed her eyes.

The click of the light switch and the flood of light across her lids brought Calleigh to immediate consciousness and she popped up.

"Good God! Calleigh! You just about gave me a heart attack, woman. I didn't expect you to be asleep on the couch."

Rubbing her face, not quite sure of what was going on, the petite blond blinked. "Hey Frank. Gosh, it's dark outside. What time is it?"

"Nearly eight. How long have you been asleep?"

"I think I got home about five-thirty or so."

"Are you sick? I've never known you to sleep so long during the day."

Calleigh got herself together. "Come over here, lover. I've got something to tell you."

As Yelina expected, the doorbell rang closer to eight-thirty than eight. Having spent so long with a man that often didn't come home for dinner at all and was almost always late when he did, his brother's behavior wasn't surprising. Besides, late dinners were the Spanish way of doing things and she had been raised in the habit. It had taken her years to get used to the American 6:00 dinner hour.

The only disappointing part of Horatio's appearance at the door was that he wasn't naked. Oh well, perhaps some other time.

The sound of his voice told her how tired he was feeling. Perhaps this dinner was going to be good for them both.

"I hope you didn't go to too much trouble."

"If you consider Perico Venezolano too much trouble, then I did. I haven't even started."

"Remind me of the dish?"

He trailed dutifully behind her into the kitchen.

"I used to make it for you for breakfast; scrambled eggs, onions, tomatoes, and bell peppers."

"Perico, parakeet, now I remember."

"Easy, no? And fast. I have everything ready. You start the salad."

Removing his jacket and laying it carefully over the back of the dining room chair, Horatio unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled them up.

Forty minutes later, they hung up the dish towels. Nothing much had been said, either during dinner or while they washed the dishes. Yelina knew Horatio didn't know anything directly of the murder case and most of whatever else he might have been working on wasn't any of her business so she didn't ask.

Thus, when they settled down in living room, both on the same couch but separated by a foot or so, she was greatly surprised by his question.

"Yelina, how would you like to help on a case we have?"

She had been swirling the bare dribble of cacique rum she had poured into a miniature snifter. When she stopped swirling the golden liqueur clung momentarily to the glass bowl and then slid sensuously down into the pool at the bottom.

Looking at him, she could tell he wasn't kidding. "How can I? I'm fraud now."

"From what Calleigh has explained, this is fraud."

"You'd have to go to my chief, Nat Luckner, but if he wants to kick it down to me, I'll take whatever you have."

Horatio explained the case. "So, you see, it's possible the victim was involved in fraud even it if it wasn't directly connected to his death."

"The State's Attorney would definitely be interested if we can bring in enough evidence."

"Good."

Yelina watched Horatio sigh and settle down. It was as if this bit of business had kept him from relaxing. Now that it was done, he could lay back and be himself. He took a miniscule sip of the sugar cane brew in his glass. He had accepted less than Yelina had poured for herself. She wondered if the man ever drank at all. He could sure pack it away when they were much younger. He had at least eaten a man size portion of the eggs, the bread, and the salad. She liked that.

His next remark nearly blew her off the couch.

"Do you still miss Ray?"

She knew he wasn't talking about Ray, Jr. More, since it was an atypical question, out of the blue, she knew it wasn't just a polite inquiry so she stopped and wondered. She was sitting cockeyed on the couch, one knee drawn up onto the cushions, the other leg stretched out towards the floor. She didn't have her shoes on. She seldom wore shoes in the house. She had leaned her side against the back cushion and supported her head on hand. Now she ran the hand through her thick sheaf of curly hair as her eyes roved around the room.

That was a good question. She hadn't thought of her dead husband for how long now? After all, she had nothing physical in the house to remind her. She had barely gotten out of Brazil with some clothing of her own much less anything belonging to Ray. Once back here in Miami, she had had to start fresh as if she was fresh out of school. Even now, much of the furniture she looked at was what she had gotten from thrift stores, including the couch they were sitting on. She had had the couch recovered and fixed up just recently. That had felt good too. Those early days of recovering from the second loss of her husband, knowing that the everlasting caring from her brother-in-law was the only constant in her life, had been rough.

Did she miss Ray after five years? Ray had been an extraordinary man in many ways and a hugely disappointing husband. She never knew what to expect or when to expect it. He could disappear undercover for months and then walk in the front door asking for dinner and lovemaking like he'd left that morning. Then he'd promise his son a game of catch the next afternoon and not be seen again for a month.

"No, I don't miss him, now. Why?"

"Just checking. We don't get to talk much." His voice was so soft and kind.

"True."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Why, do you want to talk about it?"

Until that moment, he had been looking her in the eyes. Now, he turned to look down at his socks. "Until recently, I didn't. Now, with young Ray growing up, I'm wondering what choices you're going to make."

"About?"

"About your own future."

"Are you're wondering if I'm thinking of building a shrine to Ray and spend my old age lighting candles to his memory?"

Yelina had been successful in bringing a smile to his lips. "Or outdoing Ray in his devotion to his job."

"Or outdoing you?"

"Both habits do run in the family."

"Not on my side. Horatio, I assure you, there will be no temples built to the memory of Raymond Caine and I shall always use my vacation days and maybe even a few sick days every year."

"Is that why you put Ray into a military academy? So you could have time to yourself?"

Yelina knew that look. She shoved Horatio on the arm. He acted as if he might fall over and then righted himself. "Behave yourself," she scolded.

"I couldn't resist."

"You mean teasing me, like a sister?"

Horatio looked over at her, silently, his eyes searching her face. She could read nothing of what might be going on inside.

"What?" She finally asked.

He paused before he said, "I've never thought of you as a sister. Ray's wife, yes, mother to Ray, Jr., yes, but my own sister? Don't ask me why, but that thought has never crossed my mind. I guess the tease was what I think of as friends doing, like what I do with the team when we're relaxing."

Yelina pursed her lips and considered the words. She wondered how he would feel about her if they hadn't dated before Raymond had come into the picture, if Raymond had been a better husband. In fact, how did he feel about her?

She made the decision to delve into the chasm. "In what way are we friends? I mean, considering we were lovers until Ray came into my life."

Horatio leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees and examined his hands. "It's late." He rose to his feet.

Yelina followed. "So, you'll be giving Nat a call?"

"As soon as Calleigh briefs me on what she thinks is going on. I still think there's a connection between the fraud the company is committing and the victim's death but, as yet, I have no proof."

"Well, until I know different, all I can do is treat it as fraud."

"Which is exactly what I want you to do."

They both smiled at his words. He was sounding like he was in charge of that end of the investigation and both knew he couldn't be. Fraud wasn't part of forensics.

Playfully Yelina put a finger to her bottom lip and said, "Do you really think I could really help to solve a murder some day? That would be quite exciting."

Rolling his sleeves down and throwing his jacket over one shoulder, Horatio smiled without humor. "Yeah, it's a thrill a minute."

Yelina opened the door and meant to give Horatio a peck on the cheek. He, in turn, bent down to hug her and somehow their lips met and both were caught in the moment. Briefly, oh so briefly, they were younger and full of hope and a future for them both was ahead. Withdrawing wordlessly from each other, both looked at the other for a reaction.

"Yelina, I…"

"Horatio, if you would like…I'd like you to…"

Yelina's hand dropped from the door knob. First glancing down her head slowly swung to the hall leading to her bedroom.

Horatio didn't dare look at the inviting tunnel. "I can't Yelina. I made a promise to Ray to take care of you but not in that way."

Yelina felt a flash of anger and despair. "You're a damned fool."

Horatio took a deep breath of regret. "No doubt."

Immediately, Yelina looked into those sad blue eyes. "Oh, Horatio, I apologize. Forgive me?"

As quickly as she spoke so did he. "Always."

Yelina opened the door and Horatio walked out.

Unknown to her, Horatio paused as he reached the gate to the house and touched his lips, a look of wonder on his face. Slowly it faded and he shook his head ever so slightly.

Yelina's anger lasted a while. She hadn't meant for that to happen. She hadn't meant to make such an offer. The time for them wasn't quite right. But, she had to know. Now that she did know, somehow, she felt a bit relieved. After several years of marriage to Ray, she had realized that between the two brothers, Horatio was the better man. Both were police officers but where Horatio did the job, Ray had lived the job.

Now that she had let Horatio know about how she felt and he had refused her, she felt almost relieved. It was high time she stopped waiting for the Caine men to care for her!

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Eric stared helplessly at the two artists' renderings from the witnesses who had come into the lab. One picture was a heavy set woman who, by any standards, was downright homely. Her hair was stringy, her nose was large, her lips were set into a sneer, her eyebrows were bushy and she didn't just sport a double chin, it was triple. The other picture was of a heavy set woman who could have been a plus sized clothing model. Her hair was wavy and shiny, she sported dimples on the sides of a bright smile, and her eyes twinkled under curled lashes. Aside from carrying extra weight, the women did not resemble one another in the least.

Standing in front of Horatio's desk he asked, "H, look at these. What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't tell me; two different witnesses to the same woman."

"You got it. This is ridiculous." Eric threw his hands up in a helpless gesture.

"My guess is that the less attractive woman is a man's account. Am I correct?"

"Yeah. So, what's that say?"

"Eric, stop and think. What is your memory of the women you've met?"

"What do you mean?"

"Men look at women as potential mates. It's part of our genetic makeup. After men see if whatever body part attracts them most is up to their standards, they look at the overall body. For most, fat means unattractive."

"Well, come on, H, I mean doesn't everybody think that?"

The young man watched Horatio's eyes wander over a few private memories as a slow smile spread his lips. "Not necessarily, Eric."

A look of disbelief crossed Eric's face. "You're not telling me you were ever with a fat one."

Eric was taken aback as the blue eyes snapped a bolt of electricity at him. "They're called women of size, queen size women, even queens." Every word was so sharp and crisp as to leave them etched in Eric's brain for some time to come. "As for my personal life in that regard, let's just say, I have been with a number of women of all kinds. I have learned a great deal from each of them and I recommend diversity in looks, size, and interests to all men."

"Yeah, okay, H, gotch'a." He didn't really, but he might think about it.

Moving smoothly on, Horatio pointed to the other picture. "Women see women as friends or as not-friends or at worst, as rivals to potential mates. This female witness didn't see this woman as a rival. Although I think there is some truth in both renderings, I would give seventy percent to the attractive version and thirty to the other. Take this to one of the artists and ask her to make a composite and then see if we get anything from facial recognition."

"And if we don't get anything, I'll take it back to the bar and see if either the waitress or the bartender sees anything outrageously wrong with it."

"You might also take it to Ms. Scarlatti at the condo. She might recognize the face."

"I'll take one of the artists with me as well."

Eric opened the Horatio's office door to admit Wolfe who let him pass. They both purposefully bumped shoulders.

"S'cuse me."

"Yeah, same to ya."

It was a ritual that only two men who had become friends through working under adverse conditions could achieve.

Watching Eric go down the stairs for a second, Wolfe then turned to Horatio and closed the door.

"So, Ryan, have you got anything on the beaker?"

"Yeah, I got a partial of a finger and I'm running it through AFIS now. It's not much and I have my doubts about any results on that road."

"No thumbprints?"

"No, but if AFIS fails, it could still work out."

"It sounds like you have another idea."

"Actually Walter came up with it. It seems he has an inside connection to the chemistry department at the college. He said she told him there are a couple of groups of pranksters she could think of. He's going to ask her if it's possible to get fingerprints from anyone of the students who could possibly have access to that lab."

"Good, the sooner the better."

"By the way, I think she's asked to tour the lab. Seems she wants to be in forensics after she gets her Master's in chemistry. What do you think?"

"If Walter wants to shepherd her around, I think that can be done."

Wolfe looked around as if he was afraid of being overheard. "I think Walter has a bit of crush on this lady. Somehow, I don't believe that having to hold her hand while he shows her around is going to be that hard on him."

Horatio, his hands on the desk in front of him, bent forward and peered up at Ryan. "Just remind him that sharing the particulars of a case is not a good idea."

Ryan nodded looking uncomfortable at the same time. Having to pull rank on his giant coworker was never an easy task. "I'll try to find a way to put it to him.

To break his own thoughts, Ryan asked, "Did you come up with anything as far as Mrs. Rogomar's friends or acquaintances go?"

"No, I didn't." Horatio slumped back into his chair.

"That just leaves the son, doesn't it?"

"Yes. I've asked him to come in for another interview."

"You think he might have done it?"

Horatio shook his head. "Not yet, I don't. He seemed extremely attached to her and has yet to mention anything that might have threatened that relationship. Before he comes in, however, I'd like you to do something for me. Assemble a list of former cons that might live in the area. Narrow it down to ones who have dealt with explosives in any manner."

"Alright. You know what? I think I might expand it to anyone living around that exposition center where the rock shows are held. Who knows, maybe she came across someone there."

"If her son went with her to the shows, that might work. Good thought. If we come up with anyone, we can show the son a photo array."

"Yelina! I am so glad you can work with us!"

"What can I do to help, Calleigh?"

"I'm fairly certain this company is defrauding the customers and I need your help in proving it."

"What do you think is going on?"

"The company is a conglomerate of eleven different sites for singles. One is actually called Lonely Hearts."

Both women folded their eyebrows at each other in disbelief and then giggled.

"According to Mr. Brookline's records that we subpoenaed from Noteworthy Enterprises, he was passing himself off as any number of different personalities living in the western United States and Canada. This includes male as well as female. He was online all day chatting with ladies. He targeted any that looked like they might spring for paid membership. According to our tech, Umeko, he was expert in making it sound like he was getting interested but not quite there yet. If the member wanted to stay in contact with him, then she, or he, had to buy a space of time for the site. He would often say he was about to go on an extended business trip and might not be available so the member would have to buy at least a six month membership or more."

"And once the membership had been bought?"

"He would get back to them again when that membership was about to expire. He'd make up some excuse for the extended lack of contact. Umeko said he had a file of about forty different personalities."

"Does this have anything to do with his murder?"

"We don't know that yet. We're working to see if they're connected."

"Well, if I saw him in real life and had seen him on a single's sight I would be angry, for sure."

"That's just it. None of the people that work here in the southeast work this area. The company has an office in Wisconsin that takes care of everything south of the Mason-Dixon Line and east of Houston, Texas."

"And there is no other reason for these men to be contacting these people except to get them to join or extend their memberships?"

"You got it."

"This sounds straight forward enough. Where can I find Umeko? I have a few questions for her."

"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Anchiova."

Natalia noted the tone of deference from the ordinarily pugnacious Nacimiento. She wondered if she was jealous or suspicious of the obsequiousness.

"Can we just get this over with? I'm a busy man and have other things to do."

"Yes, of course. You see, young Cadet Caine was cleared of the crime." He nearly coughed over the words. Switching his eyes balefully to Natalia he went on. "Since you seem to have been the last person to have seen Commander Trainer alive, we were hoping you might have remembered something, anything that would lead to the person who did it."

"Such as?"

"Anything at all." Nacimiento waved his hand to indicate his words meant little. "Did someone call or come into the office while you were there? Did Trainer say anything in casual conversation that might have given you the impression he was worried?"

Natalia watched Anchiova's eyes stray to the pads of paper in front of the police officers.

"Well, uh, someone might have called or something." Obviously the man was stalling for time. He was also trying to read the handwritten notes on the glass topped table from upside down.

When Natalia asked, "Can't you remember if Trainer answered the phone?" Nacimiento glared at her.

Although she sat beside the detective and couldn't watch his face directly, she could swear he rolled his eyes and shook his head ever so slightly.

As if taking his cue from Nacimiento, Anchiova answered in a placating manner, "The events of that evening were, to say the least, upsetting for my boy and myself. Of course I might not remember some slight details clearly."

Without hesitation, Natalia flashed a smile and before Nacimiento could speak again, said, "Just relate what you do remember of that evening."

Half an hour later, Anchiova apparently could only remember the most positive of interviews for his son's advancement to the senior dorm. He stuck, however, with his story that there might have been a call after his son left the office.

Watching Nacimiento escort Anchiova to the elevator, Natalia could swear that Nacimiento was trying to reassure Anchiova. She wondered what it might be.

Natalia took the notes she'd made during the interview to a table and set up a computer so she could type them up for Nacimiento. She had already done the notes from the day before. It had been hard to find the right words for what she'd heard from Bea Fontana at lunch. How she and Trainer had had an affair. She had ignored the words Bea had used, "It was brief and, as she put it, 'lovely while it lasted." She had been sure to include that after their last tête-à-tête Bea had said she and Trainer had never been alone together. He had always met her in front of the main building and accompanied her around the campus as they discussed any issues with child safety. Mostly, she'd said, she had nothing but positive reports to give him.

Since Bea was the only non student/faculty inside the walls of the school besides Anchiova and since she said she left without having seen Trainer, if Trainer had gotten a call, it wasn't from Bea. Also, no one else had been on campus that evening. Therefore, most likely Anchiova's story was a cover for something, but what?

She also thought about her own issue with Nacimiento. She had the report of his behavior. Now all she had to do was hand it over to Horatio. Only she really didn't want to. Why? Was she afraid of reprisal? No. One of the great things about working for any government agency was that even if a false report of mistreatment was filed, the person was safe from retaliation. Police, in particular, were given help because of the pressures of their work. If she was a baseless complainer, then she would most likely get a psych eval before anything.

No, there was more to his attacks on her, she was sure. Even if Nacimiento was a total jerk, he would most likely take his ire out on his own people. Why would he attack her?

She finished her reports and slipped them into Nacimiento's box. She also put a copy of the reports in her locker. While there, she made a decision.

A few moments later, she handed the report on Nacimiento's verbal attack on her to her boss.

"Thank you Natalia. I'll see this is put in to the Internal Affairs Bureau immediately."

"Actually, Horatio, I wish you wouldn't."

"You aren't having second thoughts, are you?"

"If I were, you wouldn't have the complaint in your hands. I just want you to put it away for now."

"Why?"

It didn't take long for Natalia to explain nor for Horatio to understand her thoughts on the subject. "I think you might be right. There's more to his being short tempered and something of a jerk. Filing a complaint now might only ruffle feathers and maybe get you nowhere. We'll see how this develops."

"As much as I'd like to nail his cajones to a wall now, I'm glad you think waiting would be better."

After fifteen minutes of discussing the Trainer murder case with him, Natalia left. She had decided to upset Anchiova's little applecart again today. Once was just not enough. Better, she'd do it while Nacimiento was at home, asleep for the day.

Meanwhile, Horatio had plenty of food for thought on the subject of Nacimiento. Natalia, wise in the ways of men who attacked women, or who attacked anyone for that matter, had seen more in the detective's harangue on her. Then, after having spent forty minutes or so with him again, she had made a bold decision. Most women would want justice against their attackers immediately. Natalia was fighting that urge, looking at the bigger picture.

And just was that bigger picture? Horatio stared through the glass topped office desk as if it was a crystal ball. The problem was, it revealed nothing. Yes, it was a mystery. Where was Nacimiento's anger coming from? He wasn't married so that wasn't it. Like too many police with more than a few years of work behind them, he either had no family or what family he'd ever had was estranged. Maybe it was relatives or perhaps some monkey on his back that was getting the best of him.

Horatio shook off the feeling of concern. The problem wasn't his, or at least, he hoped it wouldn't become his problem. If it did, he sure as hell wasn't going to bring harm to his own team to help Nacimiento.

"Horatio, come to the computer lab. I think Yelina and Umeko may have a lead on the killer in the Brookline case."

"What have we got?"

Even Yelina's smile couldn't compare with the bright, sunshiny glow in the Japanese girl's face. Her prominent upper teeth twinkled in tune with her dark eyes. "I found a deeply hidden file in Gunter's computer. Because of the number of hours these people spend at work, they're allowed a certain amount of personal space. It's supposed to be for personal letters, connecting to home computers to keep track of utility bills, that sort of thing. All very boring until you get past the file marked Family letters in which is a file marked Uncle Ted, in which is a file marked Aunt Sally and then there's The Girls. In there are a number of folders with female names and none write letters that sound like the way any nieces of mine would talk to a brother."

She opened a file marked Nina and chose a letter with a date which read:

Hey Lover,

When are you going to be ready to party again? I've got the week off and I'm horny as all get out.

Opening another file marked Theresa and she chose another date:

Dearest Gunter,

Last night was great. Next time, the condoms will be my treat.

The final one, from lovejoy, read:

Gunter,

I was so happy we finally met last night. You are really better looking in person than that online photo.

Five feet tall in her three inch heels, Umeko turned to the six foot redhead with a mischievous look on her face. "There are more like this last one than like the first two. I don't think he was keeping his personal life here in Miami so personal."

Yelina spoke up. "He sure wasn't following the rules if these letters are saying what they seem."

"Wow. One wonders how he had time to work. What was his success rate at subscription renewals?"

Umeko turned to look briefly at the computer as if silently communicating with it. "He kept his own spreadsheets where he kept track of each person he chatted with, or as he listed them, each sucker."

All of the eyebrows in the room cocked one over another and heads slowly shook.

"Apparently he had been doing this so long he had his 'lines' numbered."

Without looking at the puzzled expressions she went on. "He had a database of conversational beginners and replies, all catalogued according to who he was talking with. He may have tweaked them as he went along. For each sucker on the spreadsheet, he had a place for the dates he'd talked to them and the lines he'd used besides which personality he'd used. Finally, he had the success date at the end. There aren't too many that have empty spaces."

Horatio's whisper filled the room, "But none of the women or men he spoke with were in the south eastern U.S. Right?"

"But the women who e-mailed him were. And that's where I did some comparisons. I had to find the root source of each e-mail and the name attached. Sure enough, most of the women were on one of the Noteworthy Enterprises sites."

Calleigh asked, "Where are the e-mails showing he contacted them first?"

Umeko's fine brows knit over the bridge of her nose. "I'm going to have to dig deeper to find those. I'm pretty sure they are there. You have to remember, his ass would have been toast if he'd been found out."

Breaking the brief silence that followed, Horatio said, "Yelina, you follow up with Umeko on whatever you can find to make the fraud charges on the company. Calleigh, collect the names of the women who e-mailed Mr. Brookline and get whatever information you can on them. Once that's done, get in contact with Eric and see if there's any comparison among the women with the composite sketch he's got."

Hearing confirmation from the women, Horatio left hearing the voices of the women conferring on what they would be doing.

"Did Luckner give you any ideas on how to approach this, Yelina?"

"As a matter of fact, he did Umeko. I want to set up an account and see what happens. They gave me an account for one site for three months. That's the minimum, right"

"You've done your homework! Yes, that's how they get you to join for a longer period. Some let you join for free but limit you to only looking. You can even receive contact from members and talk to them for free. You just can't contact people on your own unless you join."

"Right. I have a photo of myself from a few years ago. Do you think that would work?"

"You know what? I'm thinking you should use one of me."

"What's the point of that?"

"We need unattractive or else you'll get all kinds of offers."

Yelina's eyes widened in surprise. "Umeko, you are not unattractive."

"Oh, I'm alright, I guess. I wear invisible braces now and my acne is better. I have a picture of what I looked like two years ago and I think it will be better to use, is all."

Umeko turned to the keyboard, made a couple of keystrokes and a picture of her came up. Her two front teeth were nearly crossing over each other and her face was a mass of red dots everywhere.

Yelena smiled. "That's not so bad."

"That's what my husband kept saying. Bless his heart, he loves me for me."

"So, you think this will make me a target for the company?"

"If you look at other women's photos, you'll find most have been retouched and softened to the point of being nearly blurry. Real is not popular on the dating sites. Except for winks from men more than five hundred miles or more away from you, you won't be popular no matter how attractive you make the profile."

"Once I've joined, is there any way to hack into their accounts system and make it look like I joined over two months ago?"

The small woman nearly wiggled in pleasure. "Oh, you betch'a."

"Good, the sooner we get them to show their hand, the better."

Since food was not her friend at the moment, Calleigh had brought a light lunch. Yelina's lunch was equally light but because she was watching her diet.

"Yelina, do you mind if we switch places?"

Both were sitting on the couch in the lab lounge.

"Sure, but why?" Yelina rose and sidestepped the shorter Calleigh.

Flopping into the corner of the couch with a sigh, Calleigh said, "The air conditioning was blowing the odor of your salad dressing in my direction."

Yelina looked at her container. "It's just a honey mustard dressing."

"I know and ordinarily it wouldn't bother me."

A look of realization came into Yelina's eyes. "Have you told Horatio yet?"

"I'm going to tonight before I leave work. In fact, I haven't told anyone else yet so keep it under your hat for a day or two, would you?"

"When are you due?"

"October. Frank and I are going to get married in about three weeks."

"Congratulations. I'm very happy for you."

"So, what's going on in your life?"

"Oh, you mean other than my son being accused of murder?" Yelina grinned. "Just the same old thing."

Yelina thought for a minute and then began again. "You know, Horatio asked me the most peculiar question the other night and it got me to thinking."

The rest of their quick lunch was spent in discussing Yelina's state of mind.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Hey, Calleigh, you made it. I hear you have some photos for Carol and Mike here."

"I do." Calleigh nodded to Eric as she introduced herself to the bartender and the waitress. "Do any of these ladies look familiar?"

Mike shook his head. "Nothing unusual about them so, no. I'm usually too busy listening to drink orders, trying to fill them, all of that. Unless someone has two heads or a nose the size and shape of Florida, I don't pay much attention."

Carol leaned her elbows on the bar examining the photos in the light coming from behind the liquor cabinet. She pointed to first one and then another. "Her, I remember. Pretty, isn't she? You don't usually see really pretty people unless they're celebrities. You know? Then this one, she comes in a lot. I call her Ms. Goodbar."

Calleigh cocked her head to one side. "Why is that?"

"Well, there used to be a movie a long time ago. It was about a woman who'd go out to clubs to pick up men, always looking for the perfect guy. She wasn't very discriminating, did hardly more than say hello before inviting the guy to her apartment. She ended up getting murdered. Anyway, this woman was sort of like that. Always came in alone, always seemed available for a pickup."

"Did you ever see her with Gunter?"

"Maybe. I didn't pay all that much attention."

Eric had been talking quietly with the artist as she finished up. Picking up the piece of eleven by sixteen paper, he brought it to the bar and showed it to Mike and Carol.

As if they didn't see any difference from the previous rendition, they both shrugged their shoulders.

Mike said, "Still the same person."

"That's her; overweight but nice looking in general."

Calleigh saw the look of accomplishment on Eric's face and made a note to self to ask him about it later.

"How about the rest of these pictures? Do any of them look at all familiar?" She laid out all of the photos she had brought in with her.

Both shrugged and shook their heads.

Carol asked, "Why, are they dead too or what?"

Batting her large green eyes, Calleigh tried to be as pleasant as she could. "I'm sorry but we can't give out that information as long as the investigation is ongoing."

Mike shifted uneasily. "Then, are we done here? I've got a set up to finish before the first of the night crowd gets here."

Outside of the nightclub, Calleigh and Eric conferred.

"I have to go talk to some of these women. I figure they'll be off work soon."

"I'm going with you."

"That shouldn't be necessary, Eric."

"One of these women might be a murderer, Calleigh. Besides, in your condition, you don't need any stressors."

Calleigh's surprise was obvious. "My condition?"

Eric smiled easily at his former lover. "Calleigh, how well do we know each other? I mean, you're beautiful anyway, but lately, you've been positively glowing."

"Does the rest of the lab know?"

"I don't know. If they do, it's not from me. I just came to the conclusion this morning and I didn't say a thing."

"Not even to Maxine?"

Eric got the message. "Yeah, I know, tit for tat, I don't tell about you and you won't say anything."

"Frank and I were planning to tell Horatio this evening and then let it get around after that."

"Let me know how H takes the news. He relies on you to always be there."

"And I intend to be there, too. I'll just have to be sure to have big strong men like you around when I go out into the field. Of course, if you screw up, I'll chew you up and spit you out; hormones, you know."

Putting up his hands as if fending off an attack, Eric laughed, "Okay! Okay! I'll do exactly as I'm told, milady."

They agreed to meet at the MDPD garage, leave one car, and proceed to the first interview.

"O-M-G! would you believe it? We have a hit already?"

Yelina was about to leave the computer lab when Umeko had called out. "You're kidding. I thought it would take at least a day. What should I do?"

"Let it go until this evening. Remember, your persona works for a living so you wouldn't find this until you got home."

Umeko's computer, dedicated at the moment to the email location they had set up to get mail from the three dating sites they had chosen, dinged again. "Whups! Another one!"

Yelina looked wonderingly at the screen and shook her head. "And I'm supposed to believe I'm all that attractive to men in…where do I live?"

"Tuba City, Arizona. Except that this second one, I don't think is anything. In fact, it's more likely to be a scam."

"How can you tell?"

"It has several grammatical errors and the photo looks like a professionally done thing, like something pulled from a new wallet. Also, note that this guy immediately wants your email address. All of are red flags for a Nigerian scammer."

"I've heard of that. Is that still going on?"

"And strong. I'm constantly amazed that anyone is so gullible or maybe so desperate that they'll talk to anyone. Two emails later and they're sending out money to this perfect stranger."

"And the first one is okay?"

"It sounds good. The guy says he lives in Flagstaff. It's about half an hour away and big enough that if you were to go try to find him by going there and hoping to see him on the streets, you'd be SOL."

"No chance at all?"

"Well, slim to none, anyway. I was raised in a fairly small town and it was unusual to see people who I didn't go to school with or didn't live in my neighborhood."

"I'm wondering why you're so knowledgeable about all of these dating rules."

Umeko turned from her examination of the screen with a twinkle in her eye. "My husband and I met through an online dating site. He's also into computers and we both did our homework on how the sites work."

"Would you say your dating was normal?"

"I think so. We follow all kinds of computer interest groups and one is couples who met online. We didn't even meet for two months and we both live here in Miami, practically in the same neighborhood. That seems about right for successful online dating."

The computer dinged again.

"Don't worry, this isn't anything. This is a wink from some guy in Ohio. You'll get dozens of those. In fact, most of the inquiries you get will be from men that are at least two hundred miles away."

"What's the point of that?"

"Beats me. No one else we know seems to get that one either."

"Do you think maybe the successful online matches are the exception?"

Umeko shrugged. "You got me. I just know I'm a happy camper. We can be pretty sure that no one you meet on this company's sites will be the love of your life."

"More like a perp notch on my belt." Yelina's hand fell unconsciously to the badge hooked onto her slacks.

"Come back about six. That'll give this lady time to get home, and settle down before getting to the computer out there in Tuba City."

Yelina laughed. "Alright, I'll see you then."

"Neither of the women I interviewed was heavy-set or knew of anyone." Calleigh leaned back. "Our only hope now is that Umeko can dig deep enough on the records to find what locals Gunter contacted. Otherwise, we have nothing."

"We've done more with less, Calleigh." Horatio's quiet voice was at his most assuring.

They were following their usual evening routine of catching the other up on the progress in the cases at hand.

Horatio leaned back in his chair keeping one hand on his desk. "Ms. Rogomar doesn't seem to have an enemy in the world. She played Bridge, went to social meetings with contemporaries, went shopping, got her hair done, and so on. The only difference between her and most other women her age is that she made and sold jewelry."

"I don't see how that would anger anyone enough to want to kill her."

"Neither do I. We're missing something here and until we find it, the murderer goes free."

"Do you think the blast at the university is connected?"

"I do, but how, I don't know. All three have the same signature but all three targets were different. The first may have been a preparation for the second; at least it seems like it. The one in the chemistry lab is strange in that it should have been the first."

"How do you figure?"

"As often as not, lab explosions are assignments gone wrong or, at the very most, are trial runs at some idiotic stunt. On rare occasions, a student will see the process as a way to get back at some perceived enemy or perhaps a way to cause havoc. The first explosion we had would be an example of seeing how the explosion worked outside of the lab and then the second would have been the real target. The lab, as a third, makes no logical sense."

Calleigh nodded. "And we didn't let any news out about what caused the explosions."

A knock at the glass door caused them both to look up.

"Am I interrupting anything?" asked Frank.

Calleigh rose and went to be embraced by his arms. 'No, Frank, you're timing is great." She turned to the red head seated at his desk. "Horatio, we have something to tell you."

Horatio smiled and raised his bushy eyebrows.

"First, we're getting married in about three weeks."

Horatio rose quickly and went around the desk to hug Calleigh and shake Frank's hand. His warm whisper raised the room temperature a degree or two as he said, "Congratulations."

Calleigh went on, "But that's not all. We were thinking of getting married anyway but now we have a second reason to want to do it. We're expecting in about eight months."

Horatio didn't often smile; he didn't often have reason to. Now his own reflection would have looked unfamiliar to him because of the spread of his lips. "Wow! That is great news! Really great."

Calleigh continued, "And before you ask, so far, I'm feeling fine. I get a little tired now and then but the doctor says that will pass until the very end. I should be able to work almost until I go into the hospital."

"I'm very happy for you both. Congratulations."

Frank looked down at his two closest friends. "You see Calleigh, nothing to worry about."

Horatio's switched from one to the other under cocked eyebrows.

"Calleigh was worried you might suggest she do only lab work from now on."

Horatio turned to his second-in-command. "I think she's got enough of a head on her shoulders to know what she can and can't do. Calleigh, I hope you would know that I would never make assumptions on your capabilities."

"Yes, I did hope so but I can say the same; I'd never assume you'd make a decision one way or the other. I just had some, shall I say, concerns?"

Frank pulled on Calleigh's hand. "Come on, woman. Let's get out of here before we talk him into having concerns."

Horatio walked them to the door and watched them stroll down the steps and down the hallway. The smile on his face didn't fade even when the lights above the elevator doors indicated they had reached the ground floor. He felt genuinely happy for the two. It was about time someone on his team started settling down into stable lives.

He sat down in the desk chair, turned away and set his gaze at the sky out the window. The setting sun lit the tops of the great billowing clouds floating majestically across Miami's skyline. He considered the possibilities for Calleigh's and Frank's future. Police existence was hard enough without being alone too. However, police work was hard on families; many officers brought the hard life home. Too often the life split otherwise stable families apart. He knew marriage took work and he was also convinced that the hardest work went on in police families.

As the purple haze rose from the horizon and the clouds faded to grey in the darkening sky, Horatio rose to his feet and walked to the window to gaze down at the area in front of the building. With most of the cars gone, the stylized star in the middle of the drive shone as a bright magnet to lure the night stars out. To Horatio, it also seemed to symbolize what being a police officer was about. That was the good part about the work; the crime solution, helping people, catching the bad guys. On the other hand, there was the danger and the loss of life. To an officer, that was just part of the job. To his family it was a constant fear. Every knock on the door might reveal a pair of somber fellow officers bearing the news no family wants to hear.

But, the men and women could hardly be expected to live like monks. Most were raised to want families; wife, kids, the whole catastrophe, as Zorba the Greek had so famously put it. Thank goodness, most police survived their careers and retired in tact to live with their second, third or more rarely, their first spouse.

Wistfully, Horatio thought of the women in his life. Would the wonder of love ever happen again? Could he settle down? He had no idea.

Earlier that afternoon, Walter wondered if Lottie had been serious about visiting the lab. No matter, he still had to get student fingerprints. All he could do was hope the process wouldn't be met with too much resistance. He walked down the nearly empty Chemistry building hallway. Most of the doors were open showing either labs where students stood at broad tables with Bunsen burners, flasks, bottles of liquid or powders. Some looked up as he peered in but most were too absorbed in their work. Passing the third room, Walter snapped his fingers as he thought of a great idea. Smiling to himself, he speeded up his rolling gate.

Lottie was in the fifth room and answered his curling finger with a smile. She announced to the class, "I'm stepping out for a minute. If you have a question, I'll be in the hall."

Some of the students looked up in alarm at her departure. A few smiled. The rest went on referring to notes and measuring out mixtures.

"What a surprise. Don't tell me you need to get into that lab again. It's all cleaned up."

"No, I came back to collect fingerprints from as many chem students as possible."

"But, wouldn't the ones who did it resist or even just disappear at the suggestion?"

"While I was looking for you, I thought up an idea to fight that. Is there some way that you can stop the students from doing any cleanup?"

Lottie's great brown eyes widened and then switched to one side as she considered the matter. "Well, I guess so. The only problem there is I'd have to do it later."

"Oh, I can help you there. I was a chem major and was really good at clean up."

"Can I ask what this is about?"

"I already thought that I'd get some resistance so I thought that if it happens, I could get fingerprints from the bottles and equipment the students are using. Each student does have an assigned place to work, right?"

"Sure, and getting the placement chart from the teacher would be no problem. Aren't you a bright one for thinking that up."

Walter beamed down at the five foot five inch woman. Standing as tall as he could and looking proud, he pulled in his gut. "Yeah, brains and beauty, that's me." No sooner had he uttered the words than he wondered what had ever made him say such a damn fool thing.

"And no problem with self confidence either. Well, I guess that is a plus in some places." Lottie wasn't smiling while she spoke. "Anyway, I may have an idea as to what group of students you want to look at first. I'll try to get the word to all of the classes in session right now. You might even have a chance at getting prints from previous classes if the equipment is still on the shelves."

Ten minutes later, print kit in hand, Walter stood blocking the door to the third year chem lab. "Everyone, my name is Walter Simmons and I'm from CSI. I'm here to take everyone's fingerprints." Once inside, he closed the door. "As I finish with each one of you, you may leave. If you don't wish to give me your prints, that's fine, leave now. Don't clean up; just take your belongings, your notes, and leave."

Thirty seconds later, about two thirds of the students remained.

As he finished taking a set of prints he asked the student to go to his place and clean up. Some of the kids even politely inquired if they should take care of the absent students' places as well. Walter had to hold back a reply of, 'nice try, kid,' each time.

Watching the students wash out the flasks they'd been using and put them up on the shelves to dry, he could see why Lottie had thought he could get prints from previous classes. The clean surfaces even from supposedly clean hands were a perfect place to hold prints.

The last student walked out the door twenty minutes later leaving only the teacher for the class. The tired looking middle aged man had stood by and watched, first dumbfounded by the process and then apparently angered. Only now did he growl, "Do you want my prints too?"

"Oh, no sir. I'm sorry. I should have said something right up front."

"May I know why you high jacked my class?"

"We're still working on finding who bombed that other lab."

"My God! That's all? It was a stupid stunt! Haven't you got anything better to do?"

Walter smiled as pleasantly as he was able under the circumstances. "It's my job."

First, getting the classroom chart and then assuring the teacher that the lab equipment left on the tables would be washed and put away, he watched the teacher stomp out in high dudgeon. He wondered if the head of the department, Professor Nostromos, would be in to see him for 'hijacking' a class. He hoped Lottie wouldn't get in trouble.

Alone now, as he wanted to be, Walter donned plastic gloves and began taking prints from the glass the other third of the students had left behind. He couldn't take prints from people who wouldn't give permission without a subpoena, but he could take them from equipment left in plain sight.

Once done with that, he put in a call to Wolfe. "Hey, Ryan, I'm about to send twenty-three sets of prints to you. You ready?"

"Only twenty-three? Miami U has a bigger chem class than that."

"Lottie thinks these are the most likely. If none of them match up with our print then I've got six other class rooms and several shelves of previous class' equipment to go through."

"You keeping the kids after school? Under what power?"

Walter made a face at the cell. "No! We sent them home early without having to wash up their equipment."

After a pause, Ryan cautiously asked, "And who does wash up all that equipment once you've printed it all?"

"Ryan, sometimes you ask the most disturbing questions. All I can say is, I'll be home late; really, really late."

Ryan giggled nastily. "Send what you got. Maybe you won't have to print anymore and can right to your housekeeping chores."

Without replying, Walter hung up. Picking up his kit, he headed downstairs to the humvee. Once there, he opened up the back and fired up the computer and the print copier.

As he was feeding in the prints he had collected, he became aware of a figure beside him. He hadn't noticed before how short Professor Nostromos was. His manner was so imposing, he had seemed much taller when Walter first met him.

"You did get the room teacher's permission to get the charts, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir, I did. I believe Lottie is getting signed permission from the other teachers as well."

"Good. After all this nonsense, I wouldn't want your work to be in vain." His tone of voice belied the words. "When you're done, I'll thank you to stop commandeering my student assistant. I have far too much work for her to do and she has to study to pass her Master's exam in six months."

"I'll take as little of her time as possible, sir."

All he got for a reply was a gruff grunt.

Thirty minutes later, Walter rushed back into the building looking for Lottie. He found her in her office, leaning over her desk, her back to him. Suddenly his lips became slightly numb at the luscious sight before she turned around. He couldn't deny he found the curve of those hips mesmerizing. He took a breath to snap himself out of the spell. "Hey, we got a match! No more taking prints. All we have now is a whole lot of dish washing to do."

She didn't seem as pleased as he was. She paused as if she was trying to find the right words. "All? It's still going to take half the night. I was hoping I'd be able to sit down with each teacher's class plan for the day and figure out how we'd go about cleaning each one. We can't just use water in each class."

"Oh, yeah. Some of the chemicals react badly with HOH, don't they?"

"Oh, you've had enough chemistry to know the valence of water? I wasn't sure I'd be safe with you helping."

Walter was already tired and the lady's attitude wasn't helping. "Woman, I majored in biological chemistry at Femme U. I paid for my books by earning money from rich kids who were too busy to wash up themselves. Yeah, I think I can read a class plan without burning your precious little hide."

"So, you from Cajun country?" she drawled. "Ahh! Dee-day vu!" Her accent was perfect.

"Yeah, says me. I think between us, we'll figure things out as we go."

Lottie made a face and walked past Walter out of the small room. She had a sheaf of papers in her hand.

The rest of the evening, the only words passing between the two of them related to the business at hand. Nevertheless, they were done with the last bit of glass by 7:45 that evening.

Before driving off, Walter sat in the humvee, looking at the few lit windows in the building. One of those windows, he knew, was Lottie's office. 'Geesh! What had gone wrong?' It was too early to call this love but he still felt heartbroken. 'Ah, alors, c'est la vie.' He shook his head and started the engine.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Yelina arrived at the computer lab five-thirty on the dot and found the place empty and quiet. Taped to the main keyboard where she had typed in the profile earlier that day, she found a note reading, 'Got a call and had to go out. I'll be back quick. You go ahead and log in to the sites you signed up on. Leave each window open. I'll take it from there.'

Apparently, Umeko's business took her longer than she expected because after having followed her instructions, Yelina was still alone. As they had expected, she found what appeared to be several eager responses to her profile and, sure enough, the first two they had seen before lived within an hour's drive of Tuba city. One, ParkRanger7 said he lived in Flagstaff and the other, luv2u, declared his residence to be in Sedona. Although profiling was not Yelina's specialty by any means, she could swear the language these two suitors used was exactly the same. Then there were other responses, the so called 'winks' which were the only means of communication the free members could use. At that, those were from men that were at least three hundred to several thousand miles away from Tuba City. Yelina guessed the vultures could smell the fresh meat on the site.

Having nothing better to do, she decided to do a search for men available in the Miami area. Not that she was interested; it would only be for fun, she told herself. Maybe she would find this Gunter guy. She didn't see anyone who looked like Gunter, but there were some very, very attractive men.

"So many fish, so little time."

Yelina nearly jumped out of her shoes. She had been concentrating on this wealth of manhood she hadn't heard Umeko enter the room.

"How do you know which one to trust?"

"You don't. But then, you don't know if you can trust the guys your friends introduce you to, either. It's basically the same procedure though. You talk online instead of the phone for a couple of weeks and then set up a date in public like you normally would and go from there."

"Oh, well, I was just filling in the time. I'm not really looking."

Umeko's light, "Mmm-hmm," showed she wasn't believing the words. "Now, what have we got for Ms. Tuba City? Okay, the winks from places you can't drive to in less than two hours we can throw out. Now, being that we picked a spot that's a far piece from anywhere, the Flagstaff response, and the Sedona one is close by those standards. Flagstaff is about an hour and a half and Sedona is just about two hours, I think."

"Any chance it's the same man?"

"Good thinking. Yes, could be. luv2u is trying to tell you he's got money. You can see from his profile he say's he's got an income of $125 to $150 K. ParkRanger7 is telling you he's an everyday guy, interested in sports and, oh-ho, says he is actually a National Park Ranger."

"Either one would appeal to my profile. I'm a waitress so someone with money to spend on me would be good and then I also say I'm a sports loving, camping out kind of gal so number two is a good bet."

"Okay, then let's respond. Money-man says he likes to go to Vegas. Let's ask what he likes to do there besides gamble." She clicked on the respond button and typed in the words. "Then to Ranger guy we have to know where he likes to go camping."

"If both of these guys are same man, wouldn't he wonder about me answering both of his profiles? Isn't that playing the field?"

The small woman looked up at the tall one in askance. "You are a newbie at this, aren't you? Everyone plays the field, especially at first. I mean, if they're so lucky as to have more than one real possibility at the same time."

"Do married people go on these sites?"

Umeko was facing the keyboard but stopped typing. After a pause, she answered, "Oh yeah. Some are real charmers too; really know how to tie your heart in knots."

Yelina smiled sympathetically. "It sounds like it happened to you."

Another pause before the quiet answer came. "Once for sure and then I think once more." Then she lifted her head and gave a tired smile. "I just had to remind myself that this was what the dating game was about. There are people who are jerks, ones who don't know what they want, some who, for whatever reason are out to hurt, either physically or emotionally and then ever so many more out looking for love just like I was."

"Same old story then; kissing frogs."

"At least, through the computer, it's usually not so messy."

The computer softly chimed signaling a message coming in to Yelina's newly made email. A message from Ranger guy was waiting for her. It read, 'Dear Tuba369 (Yelina's online name), I like to go camping and I like to hike. Do you hike? Mike."

"Should I take getting the personal name from a guy so soon as a red flag?"

"It's only a first name."

"Then why not put his first name as his ID in the first place?" Yelina's curly locks swayed as she shook her head. "This is complicated."

"I was two years at learning the ropes of the dating sites before I found the gem in my life. Let's throw this one for a loop and ask where he likes to camp and hike."

While Umeko typed, the computer dinged again. luv2u was getting in on the act. His message read, 'Hey Tuba369, my favorite thing to do in Vegas is to gamble. I only gamble when I'm alone. If I had company, I would rather go to shows and out to dinner. luv2u, Bill.'

"Okay, time to see how he handles sending out two messages, one right after the other."

Umeko started typing. In luv2u's response box she typed, 'I haven't been to Vegas in years. My old car barely makes it to Flagstaff. Tuba369.

Blindly reaching for a stool while she was staring at the monitor, she said, "You might as well get comfy, this playing footsie could go on for a few a while." She sat on the stool she had commandeered.

Two hours later, Umeko shut the computers down. "Poor little working girl has to get up at four in the morning so she has to quit early. It's only seven thirty there but she has to clean up and get ready for bed yet. I bet ParkRanger-luv2u guy is glad of that."

"Do you think it's the same guy?"

"Pretty sure. Language is pretty much the same. I'll know more as we talk more."

"Still, two hours of communication was a lot."

"Just the beginning. Don't worry, there's plenty of reason not to write all the time. Like tonight, we had to stop for dinner, then there's always clothes to wash, house to clean, softball games to play."

"I'm a busy girl. By the way, do I have kids?"

Umeko paused and then smiled so wide her lips couldn't contain her teeth. Her eyes lit up with an evil glint in their darkness. "Yes, you do. You don't mention it at first because you're afraid of scaring the man off. Gosh! You hope he isn't mad." She put a playful finger up to her mouth.

"And what does that do?"

"Gives him a reason to back out, which he won't, which should make you grateful. That way, he'll think he's got you hooked when he has to 'go on a trip.' It's likely to happen faster, too. We don't want to spend all year on this case."

"Tomorrow evening then?"

"Yup. We'll spring the kids on just one of them and see what happens. It could be our salesman will forget that one of his personalities doesn't know about the kids and will start talking about your having kids and how wonderful that is. After all, this guy is no Gunter Brookline. Anyway, we'll have proof it's one and the same man talking."

"What happens if number two does know about my children?"

"We'll cross that bridge later. G'night."

"'night."

"Boa Vista!" The voice rang through the morning quiet corridors

Natalia had hardly taken two steps out of the elevator when she heard the sharp voice. "Yes, Ramon?"

"My team got some info from that gum wrapper in the waste basket. Get to the school and interview a Troy Delaney."

Natalia had no trouble catching the emphasis on 'my team.' Then there was the lack of any kind of request in the order and not so much as a please, either. The comparison between H and this jerk was—was…there was no comparison. Where had this man been raised? "I'll be happy to." 'You SOB' was unspoken, of course.

Troy Delaney, she found, was a senior student. Even though he had been at the school for four years, the uniform and the crew cut couldn't hide the air of privilege the young man wore. Not that his social position wouldn't have been obvious in his mother's Vera Wang dress, Christian Louboutin red soled shoes and the hair cut that could have been achieved at only at the most expensive salon in Miami Shores.

"Was it really necessary to do this now? I'm in the midst of planning a charitable function."

Natalia found it odd how every time a rich person was called in, they were being pulled from some sort of charitable work. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I need to question your son about a few things and I can only do it in the presence of a parent. I thought it would be easier to do it here rather than at the station in Miami."

Natalia's words seemed to take Mrs. Delaney aback. "I would certainly not go to a police station!"

"I just have a few questions for Troy."

She turned to the nineteen year old and told him what she had found.

Mrs. Delaney immediately interrupted. "How do you know it was his much less when it was put there?"

Politely and in as few words as possible, Natalia answered the woman. "In fact, we are so sure it was Troy's wrapper and when it was left there, we could offer it up in court as evidence." The woman shut her mouth and leaned back with a look of shock on her face. Natalia filed that answer away as good for future use.

With both his mother's and Natalia's eyes on him, Troy started speaking. "Corey is a cool guy. We're almost the oldest in school, well, except for Miguel de la Fuego. Anyway, he had this interview with Trainer so he could get moved to the senior barracks with me. He wanted me to come along and hear how his old man and the commander were all buddy-buddy and how his Pop would get him to do anything."

"So, you hid behind the wing-back chairs in the corner?"

"Yeah. I ducked down when Mr. Anchiova came in. The problem was, when they went into the office, they closed the door, and I couldn't hear anything. After a while, Corey came out and said we should wait until his dad left because after that, that dorky Caine kid would be in. He thought Caine was in trouble and wanted to hear what was going to happen to him. Anyway, to hear what his dad and Trainer were saying, he left the door a little bit open."

"So, did you hear what went on in the office between Commander Trainer and Mr. Anchiova?

"Not really. The door is heavy and it was only open a crack. After opening some gum and giving me some, Corey stood right next to it though."

"So, he listened?"

"For a while. Suddenly, he moved away and said maybe I should go."

"Why do you think that was, Tony?"

"He said it was because he just remembered something he had to talk to his dad about."

"But you have doubts about that?"

Tony suddenly snapped out of his confession phase. "How should I know?" His eyes switched over to his mother.

"It seems to me that you have no way to make a connection between the murder of the school commander and my son. You heard him, he stayed in the outer office, chewed some gum, and left the paper in the wastebasket. He left before anything happened. Aren't we done here?"

"That was an excellent summation."

A sly smile crept across the too perfect features. "My ex-husband is a corporate lawyer. I used to be a paralegal clerk."

Acting as defeated as she could, Natalia put on what she hoped looked like a false smile of bravery. "Yes, we're done, thank you."

As soon as she reached the large silver car marked with the CSI logo, she called the medical examiner's office. "Tom? I'm pretty sure I know who murdered Commander Trainer, but I'm going to need your help to prove it. Is there any way to tell the height of the attacker and the arc of his reach?"

She smiled at Tom Loman's response. "I think we're on the same wave length here. I'll be there in about forty minutes. Come to think of it, that will be close to lunch time. I'm going to pick up food. Would you like me to bring something in for you?" She wasn't surprised at his negative reply. The doctor was self contained to the max.

Natalia got a boxed salad from a grocery story deli on the way to the lab and continued on. Taking the elevator, instead of stopping off at the first or third floor, she stopped at the second floor. This is where the Medical Examiners had offices and where she found Dr. Loman.

"I don't think I've ever been on this floor."

"Well, then, welcome. Want a tour?"

Natalia wasn't sure if he was serious or not. "I don't think so. Thanks anyway."

Tom sighed lightly and looked down at his sandwich from which he'd taken a bite. "Only our bosses are interested in where we do the paper end of our lives."

"Have you been able to get any information from the wounds on Commander Trainer's body?" Natalia opened her seafood salad and dug in.

"Yes. You'll be able to see it better on the body but let me tell you about it while we eat. The blows were with an object with sharp edges conforming to the Iwo Jima statue brought in as evidence. I matched the blood and hair found on the statue to all of the wounds. The first blow was to the back of the head just above the left occipital region. It could only have been done while Trainer was bending over."

"As if picking something up from the floor?"

"Exactly. That first blow must have hurt like hell but it didn't do much otherwise. Then, the second blow was to the left side top of his head as if struck while he was rising."

"To the left; so the killer was a righty."

"As are the great majority of people so there's no help there. The killing third blow was to the left temple. That caused irreparable bleeding. There was a fourth blow but that was just spite." Tom took another bite of his bologna sandwich and shook his head.

"Were you able to figure the height or the length of the arm?"

Tom's smile nearly split his face in half. "It took some doing, but I did. I'll have to show you in the lab."

"Eric, thank you for playing security guard for me."

"I know you'd rather have Frank or a uni but hey, I'm free so I'm glad to do it. Besides, gotta keep a lookout for little momma now."

Calleigh chuckled. "I thought I was keeping it all to myself so well, too."

"You did. I just knew, is all."

They arrived at the first house.

"Hi, are you Brita Markham? I'm so glad I found you home."

Calleigh often found that flooding an interviewee with happiness made them receptive to invasive questions later.

Indeed, Calleigh's arrival was welcome. The young brown haired woman was unemployed and was very tired of searching the net for work. At least, that's what she said. Calleigh had gotten a glimpse of the monitor as she passed the apartment window and had seen what looked like a screen full of pictures of men. Not that it was any business of hers.

"If you had known Gunter, you'd have cried when you heard he was dead just like I did. Jeez! That man was great in the sack!"

"Did you know you weren't his only, uh, friend?"

Brita shrugged her slightly rounded shoulders. "I got my share. It would be nice to have a man of my very own but until I do, Gunter was the next best thing."

"Did you ever meet in public? Like, at night clubs?"

"Sure. That way, at least I'd know at least one man at the joint. You know one, there's a better chance of meeting up with more if you look like you're with a group. I usually did hook up with someone, too. Besides, when I'd meet Gunter at a club, I knew for sure I wasn't going to go home with him. He was always looking for new meat, you know?"

"So, you'd meet new guys by having Gunter as a sort of anchor?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I guess it gave me more of an air of confidence."

"How did other women take his being so, uh, gregarious?" Calleigh wanted to say whoring bastard.

Brita's eyes searched around and then she shrugged again. "Good, I guess."

"Did anyone ever get mad at him?"

"Well, there was one chick there once. I don't know what her problem was, other than being fat. He just stood there and took it and then settled her down though, even walked her out of the club. He had his arm around her shoulder and everything."

"Where were you the day he was killed?"

Brita's whole body stiffened in alarm. "You wouldn't think…I couldn't…it wasn't me! I wasn't even there the night before. Actually, I was tired of sitting around the house and spent a couple of days with my sister up in Orlando. Look! I even kept receipts. I looked into a couple of jobs there. Travel and food are tax deductable, you know. Here!" She ran to her desk, grabbed a sheaf of small papers and shoved them at the blonde.

Calleigh looked at the receipts long enough to see a one for food in Orlando that morning and the last gas receipt was in West Palm Beach at three o'clock of the afternoon after Gunter's body had been found.

"Did the woman look anything like this?" Calleigh showed Brita a small reproduction of the composite sketch.

"Yeah, I guess. Sort of hard to remember. You know how clubs are; dark and all.

Before Calleigh bade Ms. Markham farewell she tipped her off about being checked for STDs.

The poor young woman nearly went into shock at the idea. "He seemed so nice!" Then she moaned over the cost of a doctor.

"After you get cleared of whatever you picked up from him, just be sure to buy a few condoms; they cost ever so much less than the aftereffects of unprotected sex." It was an old and tired line but somehow always needed to be said.

Then she met Eric who was a few feet from the front door. "Believe it or not, that was Ms. Goodbar. However, she isn't our shooter and she couldn't really be sure about the composite."

"On to the next then. How many fingerprint IDs did we get, anyway?"

Calleigh spread her lips but it wasn't really a smile. "Enough to keep us busy."

Ms. Trebuko? Francine Trebuko?"

When the buxom, black haired young woman acknowledged her identity, Calleigh showed her badge. "I'm a CSI and we're investigating a case. May I come in?"

"I'm getting ready to go out. How long will this take?"

Calleigh hated questions like that. "Not too long, I hope." She found that was usually a vague enough answer to cover all bases.

After verifying Francine did know Gunter and that she knew he was dead, Calleigh began the careful process of getting more information.

"Where were you that morning?"

"As a matter of fact, I might have been the last one to see him alive."

Calleigh's large green eyes flared open wide. "Oh?"

"I left about nine in the morning. I heard on the news that he may have been killed around ten."

"Why didn't you come forward before?"

The woman looked at Calleigh frankly with a hint of a smile. "Well, let's see, I left and he was alone. I stepped into the hallway and I was alone. I went down the stairs to avoid being seen by the door lady in the front and out the side door which locked behind me. I saw no one on the stairs, heard no one enter the stairs on the way. No one went in as I left. Now, what information could I impart if I came forward?"

Calleigh countered with the same frank look only with a hint of flint in her eyes. "You would have to let us decide where any information is pertinent. As it is, you could be arrested for withholding information."

Francine's look softened. "I apologize. I know ignorance is no excuse. So, what now?"

Calleigh rose to her feet with a stern look. "Don't leave town."

Outside she announced, "She was there just before our playboy was shot but left without having seen anything."

"You're not bringing her in?" Eric stood up from leaning on the railing of walkway.

"I told her not to leave town. I don't think she was into him much and wasn't all that broken up about his death, but I don't think she did it."

By the end of the day, Calleigh was almost surprised to find Eric still waiting outside.

"Three vague recognitions out of five isn't too bad. Only that one looked like she had no idea she wasn't the only one in Gunter's bed and would have killed him if she'd found out. It's almost a shame she had a receipt from a restaurant at the same time."

"Now what?"

Calleigh closed her eyes and sighed. "Now home for a hot bath and relax…oh! You meant now what on the case!"

Eric pushed at her gently, "Pregnancy is turning your brains to mush already."

"Now I have to get Umeko to dig deeper into those personal files."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Hey Umeko, I'm glad you're still here. Do you think you can find the addresses on those women who wrote to Gunter?"

"Should be no problem." The small woman moved to another keyboard. "I have his records here. All I have to do is find where the URL originated. Lets see, Theresa lives on Coral near Little Havana, Nina is over on Tuttle Avenue off of Flagler and Lovejoy is on Ave de Aviles on the south side. Those are just the ones we pulled up before. You want more?"

"Yes, please. I have a feeling I'll need all I can get. The fingerprints Eric found didn't get me much."

"I count another eleven names so it will take a few minutes."

"Just leave them at the front desk for me. I'll pick them up in the morning. I'm going home for a hot bath."

"Yeah, you gotta take care of yourself in your condition."

"Good lord! Does everyone know?"

"I think the only ones who don't know are on vacation, like Vince."

"Well, just so long as no one starts treating me like I'm made of glass."

Calleigh had been gone for about an hour when Yelina arrived. She and Umeko sat down to continue the conversations from the previous evening.

An hour into the process, Yelina's phone played 'Sonny Boy'. "I'll just be out in the hall. It's my son's night to call from his school."

Umeko hardly nodded while she typed.

Yelina greeted, "I can set my watch by you now."

Ray's voice was excited. "Mom, I saw Ms. Boa Vista out here again today. I've been cleared of the charges!"

"Did she talk to you?"

"No, she talked to a guy named Tony, one of Corey's friends. Anyway, then she left, and when I got out of class Colonel Lafayette called me in to his office. He's the one who told me. He said he'd gotten a call that the CSI people had found proof I couldn't have done it but they hadn't told him what it was."

"No, they wouldn't. The case is still open. I'm very happy. Do you think you'll be able to concentrate on your studies now?"

"I think so. My call time's up now. I have to go. I wanted you to know. I love you."

"Good night, son. Sleep well. Same time next week?"

"Back on schedule, thanks to you and Uncle Horatio."

Umeko gave Yelina a double take when she entered. "That must have been either a hot date or the best news ever!"

"News of the best kind from the love of my life." She then went on to explain away Umeko's questioning glance.

"While you were out, I told Park Ranger guy you have four kids."

"Four?"

"Might as well be really scary while we're at it. Right now, he's too busy being luv4u to have noticed. Luver boy is telling us all about his house with five bedrooms. Oh, lookee, it's up on a hill with a view!"

"Do you think it's real?"

"I doubt it."

"I wonder why he isn't on the road to Las Vegas?"

Immediately Umeko was typing that question in the chat box.

The answer came a minute later; 'Because I'm talking with a very pretty lady. That's a better gamble any day.'

"Isn't that flattering?"

"And you notice how fast it came? I bet he has a list of pat answers for exactly that kind of question. All he had to do was cut and paste. Gunter did. And look, now he's Ranger guy answering, 'Four kids? In your profile, you said you had no kids.'

"What should we say to that? He's caught the lie."

"Right now, we do nothing. In fact, we're going to sign off from both of them. You are very embarrassed. Nothing worse than being caught in a lie."

Yelina's face showed her confusion.

Umeko winked slyly. "Now we sit back and wait. The game is about to get interesting from here on out. Remember, you're sitting in the driver's seat until you give them money. Until then, the company has no hold on you. This guy is likely to say anything to get you to join. Now we're going to make them work for the money. We need as much proof here as we can get that they are using deception to defraud the public."

The wait was ten long minutes; no doubt the amount of time it took for a bathroom break and getting another cup of coffee. Then the computer dinged again. The message this time was from luv4u; 'Hey sweetie, you sort of left me in the lurch. Are you okay? I'd sure like to talk to you some more. I have to leave town for a while and it would be nice to have someone to look forward to meeting when I get back.'

Umeko hit a switch that shut down all of the computers. "Ha! He thinks he has us already. He's hoping you think you've lost Rangerguy and, in a panic, will respond to him. We're going to play hardball. I think two or three more days of this and you'll be able to serve a warrant to shut them down."

Before Umeko could leave the room, Yelina spoke up. "Could you pull up Gunter's files that have the local women's emails? I have an idea about something and I'd like to follow it up tomorrow."

Umeko punched a switch that turned on just one computer. She quickly had the screen filled with file icons, all with women's names. "There you go. When you're done, hit this switch again. I imagine the night tech will be here by that time anyway."

Thanking her, Yelina settled down with her notebook.

"So, whose fingerprint popped last night?"

Ryan looked up at Walter. "A kid named Nate Kinson. He's a sophomore. He's being brought in."

"I can hardly wait to hear what this is about."

Walter didn't have long to wait. Thirty minutes later, a gangly young man with a large share of pimples on his face was escorted into one of the interview rooms. Walter was more than happy to have to stand outside while Horatio interviewed him. He knew he was learning technique from a master.

Instead of doing what he could have done, roaring into the kid's face something like, 'You blew up a lab! What were you thinking?' Horatio began with quiet. He entered silently in his soft soled black calf skin Allen Edmonds shoes. He walked to the wall behind Nate's chair and stood off to the side. He was just far enough to the rear of the young man that, when Nate needed to read his interrogator, gauge what he meant, he had to crane his neck uncomfortably. Discomfort threw a monkey wrench into thought processes and often caused unmeant revelations. The head detective's first question was so quiet that, had the air conditioning been on, he couldn't have been heard. "Do you know why you're here?"

Nate's head ducked down before he answered. "I'm guessing it's because of the lab explosion."

"That's correct." Advancing to just behind Nate, Horatio opened a folder he'd brought in and laid out the first photo. "This is a close-up of the fingerprint we found." He threw it casually down on the table.

"So? I've probably used most of the glass in that room."

Standing beside Nate, he said matter-of-factly "That was the bottle used to create the blast. It has a layer of the remains of the potassium chlorate that caused the explosion."

"Everything in the blast area would have had remains on it."

Horatio leaned over and said quietly into the chemistry student's ear. "Yes, but Nate, this print has potassium chlorate embedded in the whorls over clean glass on the inside of the neck."

"Yeah? So?"

"Meaning, Nate, that you handled potassium chlorate, pouring it carefully into the bottle. Then you put in the ball bearings and used your thumb inside the neck to lay the bottle on its side before corking it. When the blast occurred, Nate, it blew the cork out of the bottle, exposing the fingerprint but not covering it in the powder."

"Okay, okay," Nate whined. "It wasn't even my idea."

Horatio had stood up, and then he leaned over again. "Whose idea was it?"

Nate paused. Horatio seemed to have expected this. Taking advantage of the time, he walked around the table, pulled out the chair opposite the young man and sat sideways on it. He propped his elbow on the glass top so his arm was upwards, partially obscuring his face.

"Don't say I told you. They'd kill me if they knew I told. It was Jupiter and V's idea. I mean, I told them about what my grandfather told me and they just wanted to recreate it."

"What did your grandfather tell you?"

"Grampops was a chemical engineer for Alcoa up north before he retired. He said that when he was in college he and some friends put some ball bearings in a bottle with potassium chlorate, put it to turning on a lathe. Then they left for some reason; he never said why. They were supposed to go back to the lab and check or something only they forgot and they came back the next morning to a big mess." Nate's head hung lower and lower as he spoke.

Horatio turned to face Nate. He had to lower his face practically to the table to be able to look up into Nate's eyes. "And you told your friends about this?"

"I guess I told lots of friends about it but Jupiter got really excited. His girlfriend, Virginia, she likes to be called just V, did too. She's kind of radical, you know? It got to the point where she was saying stuff like 'we have to do this, man. It'll work perfectly.'" Nate spread his hands, palms up. "Well, what's not to work?"

"And you never thought you'd get caught, did you?"

"One broken bottle in all the rest of the broken bottles? Who'd think someone would be dumb enough to go through it all?"

Horatio stood up and shook his head as he spoke. "Someone just dumb enough to have caught you." He nodded to the officer waiting outside.

Stepping outside, Horatio found Walter behind the one way mirror with a sheaf of classroom names in his hand. His large fingers were deftly running down the list.

"Walter, I'm betting there is more than one Virginia in the classes and we can't tell which one is Jupiter's girlfriend. Rather than possibly lose her, I suggest you go back to your contact at the university. I want both of them picked up at the same time."

"Yeah, okay, H." Walter wished he could sound more enthusiastic but it was beyond him. After the disaster with Lottie before, he was sure he would be tongue tied, afraid he'd say the wrong thing again.

Whether she just wanted to let bygones be bygones, or cooperated in the spirit of a working relationship, he didn't know; whatever it was, he caught her in the halls and she quickly found the name he sought. Then to make matters even easier, she took him to her office and pulled up the home addresses for both. V lived in a campus dorm while Jupiter lived at home with his mother.

"Ryan? I have the addresses. Neither one is on campus right now. This V girl lives near the campus, so why don't I pick her up and you send the uniforms out to find Jupiter.

"It might be a good idea if I go out along with the officers. If this kid has any chemicals around, they probably won't know how to handle whatever it is."

"Right. Same here. I'll meet you at the lab."

Walter arrived at the four story high dorm that was merely a block from the campus about ten minutes later. He showed his credentials at the front desk and waited while the clerk called V's room. Not getting an answer, she announced over the loud speakers that Virginia N'ga had a visitor. A passing student casually pointed to a large room and, after looking Walter's large figure up and down as if in speculation, declared V was there.

Since there seemed to be no barrier to entry, Walter went to the large double doorway and looked in. Only one person seemed to be looking at him. All the rest were unconcerned.

"Are you V?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

V was a far cry from the woman of the alien beings featured in the popular television show. She was not tall or elegant, had no guile hidden in her dark eyes. If comparison could be made, she looked much closer to a combination of all of the male stars in The Big Bang Theory show. Her black hair was stringy and somewhat greasy, her round shouldered posture did nothing to enhance her flat chest. A bit of a pot belly and the bad skin showed a fondness for junk food. Showing more interest than discontent in Walter's purpose, she didn't resist the order to accompany him downtown.

Before leaving, he asked her to wait with the police officers and requested permission to look for chemicals in her room. Though looking thoroughly disgusted, she granted him the right to look at her side of the room. She dug out her cell and made a call.

"My roommate is expecting you but she's not pleased. Just do what you have to and get out. I need to live with her for another few months."

The young woman who opened the door in response to his knock seemed to prove that like attracts like. The only difference between the two was that V could have been sort of attractive, given a bit of hair conditioning and encouragement to stand up straight; this one needed something more along the lines of a nip and tuck to balance a nose and chin, both of which seemed twice the size necessary. There was nothing to be done for the tiny eyes that could barely contain the panic when she saw Walter's size.

Holding the door to just a crack, she pleaded for time to clean a little more.

Assuring her the room couldn't be worse than the state his room at college had attained by his Junior year, he waited while she hemmed and hawed. Finally being allowed in, he could see the challenge ahead of him. He decided to change tactics. First he found out that Patty, the roommate, was an Ancient Literature major.

"So, you don't bring chemicals home?"

"And neither does V!"

"I have to look anyway. It's part of my job. Which side is her room? I'll check only her area and leave."

The dorm building was one of the high priced ones so the rooms were slightly larger than many. Not only was there plenty of room between the beds, each side had its own closet and a large chest of drawers. Ten minutes later, he felt assured there were no chemicals in the room. He was in the process of thanking Patty and getting ready to leave when he found himself being vamped. It was the only word he could think of to describe Patty's almost ludicrous behavior.

"What? Leaving already big guy?" While Walter had been busy, she had opened half the buttons on her light blouse showing the top of a bra, raised the bottom up and tied it at her waist. She had also made an effort to smooth her mousy brown hair.

Suddenly Walter remembered the first rule in doing police business with the public; never do it alone. He knew now he should, at the very least, have asked Patty to wait outside in the hallway or better still, had an officer accompany him. Leaving Patty disappointed now could lead to her making a mess of herself and then accusing him of assaulting her.

Thinking fast, Walter said, "What time is it?" When Patty asked why, he replied loudly, opening the door at the same time, "My fiancée is going to kill me! We're having a wedding rehearsal tonight. Thanks for your cooperation, ma'am." He silently blessed the man who poked his head out of the door directly across the way and saw Patty unharmed if somewhat strangely attired.

When Walter arrived at the lab, he found he had been beaten by Ryan. Nodding to each other, Ryan then nodded to an interview room in which sat a tall, muscular, blond young man with eerily bright green eyes.

"I'm going to keep the girlfriend down on the first floor. I don't think they should know about each other as yet. I didn't find any chemicals. How about you?"

"I didn't get to look much. His mother watches crime dramas and demanded a search warrant. She took us only to certain areas. The only chemicals I saw were the kind his mother used." At Walter's inquisitive look, Ryan went on to explain, "His mother is a beautician. What's the girlfriend like?"

"Looks like a typical lab rat, only after a really hard day. I'm not sure she'll talk. Once I told her why I was bringing her in she went all quiet."

"Good luck. Mine sure doesn't look like a chem student."

"Let's hope Nate wasn't leading us down a garden path."

"Walter, what would be the point?"

"To let the real bombers get away, that's why."

Ryan shrugged. "Horatio still has Nate cooling his heels. We'll all compare notes in a while."

A few minutes later, having a line of questioning in mind, Ryan entered the room where Jupiter Thompson waited. The blond seemed neither anxious nor irritated at being held. He sat tipping his chair back, looking about at all of the activity he could see through the many glass walls. When Ryan entered, the young man gave him an appraising look, smiled ever so slightly and then went back to looking around.

After a few other questions Jupiter admitted, "Yeah, Nate and I are tight. I've known him since we were kids."

"Did you know we nailed him for the recent explosion in the lab the university?"

"No kidding?"

"He also fingered you and your girlfriend for helping him. Well, actually, he says he helped you and your girlfriend. He told you both about the process and V wanted to see if it would work."

Jupiter shrugged his broad shoulders and set his jaw. "He's lying. V and I were across town that night, partying it up at a friend's place."

"Where?"

"Jeez! I don't know. It wasn't really a friend of mine. It was a friend of a friend. Uh, I followed behind the guy."

"So, you don't know where you were?"

"I just know I wasn't at the lab that night. Hey! What's the big deal anyway? So some equipment got wasted. The university sure charges enough tuition to cover something like that."

Meanwhile, before approaching V, Walter made sure the female officer outside was keeping a close watch on what was going on inside. He didn't want to be caught like he'd been a couple of hours ago. Not that men didn't try to prove mishandling from male police staff; it's just that, for some reason, women were more prone to such accusations.

"Nate said I helped him blow up the lab? Nope, couldn't happen. I was with Jupiter. We were studying together."

"Where?"

"At the coffee shop. It's called the Coffee Cup."

"Anyone see you there?"

"How should I know? We were too busy studying."

"Why would Nate pick on you and Jupiter as having helped? What's he got against you?"

Peering through her smudged dark rimmed glasses, V crossed her arms under her small breasts. "Not a clue. Hey, when is this going to be done? I've got studying to do now, too."

Walter turned to leave the room and then wheeled around to ask, "I just gotta know, is Jupiter his real name?"

The dark eyes flashed and the lips spread across slightly yellow teeth. "Yeah, it's his real name. His mother was into mythology when he was born. She told him that Hercules was overused and besides, Jupiter was king of the gods."

"And you never thought of asking him to use his powers to blow up a lab?"

For just a moment, the college sophomore looked like she was musing over the possibility. Suddenly, she switched gears, looked up, and asked, "When do I get out of here?"

"I'll let you know when you can go. Just sit tight."

Walter found Ryan standing in the hallway below the entrance to Horatio's office. They could see the redhead at his desk but sitting sideways, his elbow propped on the desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"I'd guess he's waiting for us."

"You go first. If you miss a step and fall, I'll catch you."

Walter looked down at the five foot nine inch Ryan. "Sure, little buddy. I'm all atwitter with anticipation on that idea."

Nevertheless, Walter went up first.

While listening to the two varying stories, Horatio had risen to his feet and stood at the tall window that overlooked the parking area in the front of the MDPD-CSI Laboratory building. "And Nate's tale makes three. We can hold Nate, both on evidence and admission. What we need next is either confession from the other two or evidence." He pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Frank, could you please go to a judge and get a warrant to search the room of Virginia N'ga at the Miami University Tuttle Dorm and for the home of Jupiter Thompson? We'll want all of their outer clothing, shoes on up to hats if they've got them. I'd recommend you concentrate on the dirty clothes. This, however, won't exclude a search for chemicals. Thanks."

He turned to Ryan and Walter. "Go back and tell each of them what the other one said. I'm going to see if Nate will come forth with any more details of the evening in the lab."

Before parting to go to their respective interview rooms, Ryan suggested to Walter that they play the phone game; calling each other each time a story changed. Walter nodded and pulled his phone from his pants pocket to his shirt pocket for easy access.

Meanwhile, Horatio decided to take the direct, invasive approach on Nate. He entered the room, walked quickly around the table to the freckle faced young man's side, leaned down and said, "Tell me, Nate, exactly step by step, how did you and your friends go about setting up the explosion? Do not, I repeat, do not leave anything out."

Nate leaned far to one side away from the breath warming his ear. Even though he hadn't heard an 'or…' after the last words, he knew there would be consequences if he left anything out. Not knowing what they might be had him gathering his memories quickly. "We went into the lab, Jupiter and V set up some jars and things for maximum noise and breakage, and I set up the jar. As soon as it was all ready, we went outside and waited. When we heard the noise, we ran inside, looked in, thought it was cool and left."

"Now, let me get this straight." Horatio had maintained his position, leaning over Nate's shoulder. "Jupiter and V set up glass to get broken?"

"Yeah, with the ball bearings flying out, we figured it would be great if they had something to hit. It was too. Man! All that glass!"

Horatio stood up and earnestly asked. "Do you know that Jupiter and V both deny they had anything to do with it?"

For the second time that day, Nate seemed genuinely surprised.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Nate's mild brown eyes opened wide under light brown brows. "What? Hey! I told you, it was V's idea! I didn't want to do it but she said it would be fun to stick it to the graybeards like Nostromo."

"I thought you said it was your idea."

"I just told them the story my grampops had told me. V's the one who said he wanted to see what it was like."

Horatio walked slowly around the table. As he did, he cocked his head smiled, keeping his eye on Nate.

The slender kid kept his eyes down to his hands playing in his lap, obviously aware of the man in the room with him. He didn't know what this man might do. Whatever it was, he had an idea he wasn't going to like it.

Horatio timed his steps to synchronize with the level of nervousness his prey was showing. He didn't enjoy this part of the game. Not when the one he stalked was so young and unpracticed. When he reached Nate's other side, he leaned down and whispered, "What about the bombing with exactly the same kind of device that killed a woman earlier that day?"

This time Nate literally jumped from the chair, put his back to the wall and then sidled to the nearest corner. "Killed a woman? Me? Are you saying I killed someone?" The young man sank to the floor, his knees in front of him. "No! no, man, I'd never kill anyone."

Horatio stood still knowing it wasn't necessary to close in physically. "What about Jupiter?"

Nate had put his hand over his eyes as if to shield them from the light. "That big puffball? No way. It's why he doesn't play sports. He can't get mad enough to win. He can get silly, like this lab prank but that's all. He'd have to be smarter too. The only way he's making it through chem now is because V and I are helping him."

"How about V?" he posed the question as if he wasn't interested.

"Her pop would kill her before the law could do anything if he found out she even thought about sticking it to anyone. You know, Asians and standards and all that. She was stretching her personal boundaries just by doing this lab thing. Murder? No way."

Now he sank his voice back to the quiet whisper that did ever so much more than any level of shout. "Yet, the bomb was exactly the same as what you used in the lab."

Nate waived his hand as if he was fighting flies. "Not me, man, not me, not me." Now he put his arms on the tops of his knees and wearily lay his head down.

Horatio searched the ceiling of the room for the briefest of moments, nodded ever so slightly and quietly left Nate to decide whether the fun had been worth it.

In another interview room, Ryan hadn't wasted any time with Jupiter. As he walked into the room, he announced, "Your girlfriend, V, says she wasn't at any party house with you. What, do you have another half Asian girlfriend that you mistook for V?"

Jupiter's wavy blond hair flashed vibrantly against the flush in his cheeks. His eyes became more vivid as they bulged slightly. "Where does she say we were?"

"You mean you don't remember?"

The look on Jupiter's face showed his panic. His eyes lowered and flicked from side to side as if he was trying to figure out what his girlfriend might have said. Suddenly a look of triumph came into his face. "I remember now. We were studying!"

Ryan almost bought into the words until he thought to ask, "Where?"

A look of defeat almost captured the young face until he again seemed to come on the answer. "In the library!"

At the same time, Walter was watching the vaguely Asian eyes narrow in determination. "If you would just let me talk to him, I could remind him where we were."

"Just remind me, please."

"At the Coffee Cup, which is across the street from my dorm. We study there all the time."

The phone in Walter's shirt sang melodiously. He pulled it out. "Oh? He did? How convenient. And where?"

"Ah hah! Not so convenient. Yeah, I'll inquire further."

"Do what? I haven't yet, but I will."

Walter folded the phone and slipped it into the light blue shirt. "I was reminded to inform you that we are getting a warrant to search your room."

"Again? Wasn't once enough?"

"The first time, I was looking for chemicals. In a way, the warrant is for the same thing but this time we're going to be taking your clothing and examining them for the chemicals used in the lab exposion."

"Big whoop! Like, I'm not covered in chemical dust from three different lab classes a week."

"It's not the only thing we'll be looking for, but thanks for the warning."

Jupiter was slower to respond similarly but he eventually realized how involved in chemicals he was. "My mom is afraid to wash my clothes sometimes. She'll read my chemistry books to me while I eat or something. She says the chemicals I work with will blow up her washing machine some day, except I don't see how."

As to where Jupiter was the night of the explosion, he finally resorted to loss of memory. "V and I study all of the time. Sometimes we're in the library, sometimes at my house or at her dorm. I can't remember."

Horatio, Walter, and Ryan met in one of the smaller lab rooms after the last round of questioning.

Walter and Ryan leaned on tables opposite each other while Horatio stood to one side as the apex of the pyramid. Horatio had his hands on his hips, his gaze caste downwards as did the other two. He was tracing out the case, placing the evidence as they had found it, using the three students' words to connect it all. Yes, it all made sense and yet it didn't. Alone, the lab explosion was almost certainly the work of these three. Nate named Ms. N'ga and Mr. Thompson and they were only denying it. No one was fingering anyone else. No one was saying anything to connect the lab explosion to the other two bombings.

"How about if we leave the other two bombings out of the equation for now?" Ryan kept his eyes cast to the floor as he spoke.

"Then we only have Nate." Walter looked down on Ryan.

"Once we have the clothes, I bet we'll have the other two."

Horatio could see Ryan's point. "Mr. Wolf, there's no doubt the other two bombings are connected."

Ryan heaved a sigh and looked up to his colleagues. "It's just that, from what I've seen of the three, V is the only one with smarts enough to have carried out the other two."

Walter leaned back and crossed his arms on his chest. "Yeah, only when I mentioned that someone had been killed by a similar bomb, she showed curiosity, and some concern, nothing else."

"Same with Jupiter. I just don't think they had anything to do with it."

Horatio summed it up. "So, the other two have the same MO, but no other connection. We can almost certainly break down the alibis Mr. Thompson and Ms. N'ga are making a hash of. I just haven't heard anything that connects any of them to Ms. Rogomar.

"Gentlemen, unless you have a suggestion, it looks like we're going to have to release Ms. N'ga and Mr. Thompson. Until we've examined their clothing we don't really have anything but specualation."

Ryan and Walter looked at each other expectantly as if hoping the other was going to come up with an idea that would prove their work for the day wasn't in vain. Both remained silent and then shrugged.

"Then, aside from accusation, we've got nothing at the moment. Let's just hope their clothing does reveal something."

As if on cue, Horatio's pocket rang out.

"Excuse me a moment." He took his phone out and saw Frank's ID. He quickly put the phone to his ear. "Yes, Frank."

"Horatio, I think we may have a break goin' for us here."

"Oh?"

"I'm at the Thompson home. When I showed the kid's mother the warrant, well, she kind of went over the wall in reaction."

"In what way?"

"I mean, I expect a mother to be concerned when the police show up at the door with a warrant. It's just that, I swear she thought we were after her!"

"Did you check to see if she has a record?"

"Heck, yeah! But, no, she doesn't even have parking tickets."

"Her son has one DUI but he's clean otherwise."

"Then, get this, after I got a chance to explain why we're here, she goes off the deep end again. I can't make heads or tails of what she's saying, either. I'm not sure if she's trying to take the blame for blowing up the school or just saying her baby boy couldn't do such a thing or what."

"I see. Anything else?"

"Just that she's a hairdresser and has a few chemicals in a room where she says she does work on the side. It looks legit but I don't know about what's used on women's hair."

"Bring her in with the clothing. We may be on to something."

"Shall I bring in the hair dressing stuff too? I mean, some of it is chemicals and all."

"Leave the chemicals in that room. If you find any other chemicals though, call me. And thanks Frank."

His reply was a click as Frank ended the call.

Turning to the two team members Horatio said, "Ryan, I'm going to question Jupiter, if you don't mind. Walter, just let Ms. Ng'a cool her heels for a while."

Walter swung off to go and watch the young lady squirm.

Following the long legged strides Ryan urged, "Sounds like you got some information."

"I don't know yet. Frank is bringing Jupiter's mother in and I'd like to be armed before I see her."

Ryan made sure Jupiter didn't see him approach. He slipped to the small side alcove behind the one way glass. Meanwhile, Horatio didn't pause as he nearly burst in on the room.

"My name is Horatio Caine, Jupiter. I'm wondering why your mother is saying you couldn't possibly be involved in the lab bombing? Did you tell her about it?"

Jupiter was one of those truly guileless people. Every emotion and thought played out across his face in a wash of blanching and blushing while his stare floated down and up. Finally, as if he had no other answer, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"We sent out officers with a warrant for your clothing and apparently your mother wasn't surprised. And yet, she seemed sure you couldn't have blown up the lab. At the same time, she was extremely upset and I'm wondering why that is?"

"Oh, uh," the lad stammered, "you know how moms are."

Horatio sat down opposite the brawny blonde, both arms on the table, one hand over the other. He was unconscious of how the bright afternoon light from the window highlighted his red blond hair. "But, she wasn't surprised that you were being accused. Why is that?"

"But she said I couldn't have done it. That's the way moms are."

Nearly putting his chin to his hands, Horatio looked up into Jupiter's eyes. "The key word here is surprise; something your mother did not display. She was upset, but not surprised. Did you tell her about blowing up the lab?"

Jupiter squirmed and grinned. "She heard about it, sure. Maybe I told her how it was done. I don't remember." The words fairly tumbled out of his mouth.

On a strike of inspiration, Horatio's tone became conversational while he asked, "Do you talk about your classes with your mother?"

"Sure. She's interested in what I do."

"You work with a number of chemicals that can cause explosions at this stage of school?"

Jupiter smiled slightly, "Well, we learn about them but we don't get to use them much."

"And you tell your mother about the chemicals? How they work?"

The face blushed deeply. "Sometimes, I guess. I don't remember."

Finally playing his ace, Horatio announced, "We're bringing her in for questioning. Perhaps when we tell you some of her answers, your memory will improve." As he said this, he rose to his feet.

Jupiter's hand slapped onto the table. "Oh man! Why are you going to do that?"

Horatio's eyebrows rose twice in quick succession. "Because, we can." He left the room.

Meeting Ryan in the hall, he said, "You'd better tell Walter to get ready to turn Ms. N'ga loose. Until we examine her clothing, we've got no reason to hold her. Remind him to warn her not to leave town."

He didn't even have to check his watch to know that Calleigh was probably in his office waiting for him.

She was. After hearing that Horatio was waiting for Mrs. Thompson to be brought in, she shook her hair off of her shoulders as if removing a weight. "I'm glad someone is making progress. I'm going to start tomorrow on whatever list Umeko can make from the ones Brookline was writing to on email."

"Aside from foot imprints indicating a woman of size and eye witness accounts to the same effect, you've got nothing else?"

"Nada. No gun, and the fingerprints are only what the driver's license data base has. None of the fingerprints come up in AFIS. The only hope we have right now is whatever we find on his computer."

"Do you think he deleted anything?"

"Probably. I'll have Umeko check."

"How is she doing?"

"She's slower than Vince but she's just as good, knowledge wise. By the way, how is Natalia doing?"

Horatio winced ever so slightly. One of his team was at risk; perhaps not physically but otherwise. Nacimiento would be arriving in a couple of hours and though he knew he could demand information, he also knew Nacimiento was experienced enough that he could bluff, dissemble, and put him off. He could also ask Natalia how she was doing and knew she would put up a brave front.

Hearing the lack of answer as plainly as a clarion call Calleigh inquired, "How about if I ask her about how she's dealing with working with Nacimiento? I know he can be a pain."

Horatio gave his long time friend and partner in crime solution a look of gratitude from under his eyebrows. "That would probably be better."

Calleigh said nothing more on the subject though she had no idea why the department boss would be hesitant to ask one of the members about the progress of a case. She knew about the case belonging to Nacimiento and Natalia being required to follow his lead so as not to confuse evidence collection but nothing more. Not that it mattered. She was curious about Natalia's progress on the case and Horatio had given her permission to inquire.

When Horatio offered an invitation to Calleigh to view Jupiter's mother's questioning process, she flashed a smile and stood up sayiing, "As much as I'd like to I think I'll beg off. I still have to check on Umeko and Yelina, remind Umeko about reconstructing any deleted files. Then I get to go home and take a hot bath."

Rising to face her, Horatio looked down at the woman he admired so much, "Good, I'm glad to hear you're taking care of yourself. If you weren't, I'd send you home myself."

"Oh you would, would you?"

Horatio rose to see her to the door. "Calleigh, I think you're going to find the whole team is going to be like a bunch of mother hens. We're all afraid of what Frank would do if anything happened to you or the baby."

Holding the door open, Calleigh chuckled and then looked thoughtful. "Maybe if I wrap myself in cotton batting and get into a shoe box until I give birth? You could put me up on a shelf in a closet. Would that make everyone happy?"

Horatio leaned down and kissed the green eyed mother-to-be on the forehead, "One roll of cotton coming up."

A few minutes later, Calleigh saw that Natalia was back. Suddenly the mystery of her conversation with Horatio came up. She put on her 'Oh! There's my friend!' look and walked up to her.

Natalia was standing at a desk, sorting through notes. She was so intense about it, she didn't hear Calleigh and jumped when her friend spoke.

"Wow! Is what you found today that interesting?"

Natalia settled herself down. "Well, yes and no. I mean, yeah, I think I can get proof of who killed our victim but now I have to find a way to present it to Nacimiento in such a way that he'll take it seriously. I guess I was lost in thought."

"Why wouldn't he? Isn't it solid?"

"It's solid alright but, well, Calleigh, there's just something about Ramon that tells me he isn't going to like the evidence no matter what."

Calleigh couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Why ever not?"

Natalia almost spoke, stopped herself and rethought about what she was saying. "Calleigh, I'm just tired. It's good, solid evidence and I know Ramon will be glad to have it."

"Tired? Is that all? There's nothing else between you two?"

"Nothing personal, if that's what you mean. I hardly know the man."

Calleigh knew that Natalia knew that wasn't what she was talking about. "Well, I'm glad you're close to getting proof."

Calleigh almost turned to go.

"Calleigh, did you ever work with anyone you thought might be a little too close to, uh, well, a criminal element."

Calleigh's first thought was about Jessie Cardoza when he'd still been alive. No, that had all been a mistake of circumstances. She had to look to long ago in her past to find anything like that. "I think everyone has, Natalia. Police are human, subject to wrong doing, just like the general public."

"What do you do about it?"

"Get proof. That way you prove him innocent or have the officer removed from the force." Calleigh tried to keep her tone analytically correct. She didn't know if Natalia was speaking theoretically or what but the answer to such a question always had to be the same, especially for someone in forensics; get the proof.

Natalia nodded. "Yeah, I knew that." She tried to smile brightly signaling she got the answer she needed.

Calleigh continued on to the computer lab. "How goes it?"

Yelina spoke first. "More and more interesting."

"You get more than you thought?"

"As far as the replies and being strung along, not really. One has already announced he has to leave town soon and it looks like the other one, which we think is the same man or they have side-by-side cubicles, is about to tell us the same."

"And then he'll urge you to join so you can be there for him when he gets back and then live happily ever after. So, what's the more?"

Umeko took her turn to speak. "We just got a message from a woman denouncing Gunter and declaring all online dating to be scams."

"How would she know Gunter? I thought they all used pictures of male models scanned from magazines or cheap wallet photos and used different names besides."

"The name she calls him is different but the face is the same. I guess he thought he could get away with a shot of himself for one of his personalities."

"How does she say she knows?"

"She doesn't. She just rants about the sites being rip-offs. We were just about to send her a message to see if we could get her tell us more."

Less than an hour later, they had what they thought was the full story. Barbara Wainwright lived eighty miles northeast of Phoenix, Arizona. She had a cousin, Terri, living in Miami. The two women were very close and emailed each other at least once a week. Barbara had long been on the online dating scene but because she lived so far from practically anywhere, she hadn't met anyone yet. She was about to give up on this one site when, miracle of miracles, she had been contacted by a man who had immediately showed real interest in her. He said he lived in Phoenix. How perfect could that be? His profile fit into hers exactly, he was good looking, and he had a job. Meanwhile, her cousin contacted her and said she had also met a man. Okay, maybe he wasn't Mr. Perfect like hers was. This was a face to face meeting at a nightclub scene. She didn't often go out to bars and apparently he did, but he seemed so very interested in her that, surely, that meant something. Besides, Terri was a fixer and saw potential in this man. Besides, he was so handsome! To prove it, she sent Barbara a picture. Imagine their surprise when, comparing pictures, they found they were talking about the same man.

Apparently Barbara was venting her wrath by putting out the alarm to innocent women. Had Terri vented her anger differently?

Yelina looked worried. "We…I mean Homicide has to find that woman quickly."

"Damn! And I was about to head home!"

Yelina smiled. "What's to stop you? You're not the only one with a gun and a badge, Calleigh."

For a moment, Calleigh looked surprised and a little bit lost.

The taller, curly haired woman stood up resolutely. "You go home and rest. Umeko and I will get Terri's address and I'll contact Horatio as soon as we have it. You'd need to do the same thing anyway. Since she's apparently armed, you'd need backup anyway. Who knows how long it'll take to get her in here and start the questioning process. You can come in tomorrow and work far better after a good night's sleep."

"Have you been talking to Horatio or to Frank?"

Yelina's blank stare was Calleigh's reply. She shook her head. "Never mind. I can see I'm surrounded by mother hens and will have to live the life of Riley until I give birth." She turned with a toss of her perfectly blond hair. "Bye y'all."

Horatio was watching Ms. Thompson being seated in an interview room when his pocket twittered. Five minutes later, he approached Frank.

"Francis, we have another pickup."

Frank's eyes snapped as his fatigue got the better of him. "Not another scrappy one! This little lady here wore me down two inches."

"I'm going with you, Frank. This one is armed and dangerous."

"Good. I can fight a man armed with a gun better than a wordy woman."

Horatio smiled. "This is even tougher. This could be a woman with a gun."

Resigned to an evening of hard work, Frank stood back and swept his arm foreword in a gesture to indicate that Horatio should lead the way.

In the computer lab, Yelina considered her feelings. Ever since that evening of Horatio's visit and that perhaps accidental kiss leading to her invitation to stay and his refusal, she had come to several realizations. One, she wanted a man in her life again. Maybe she wanted to get married again. No, not to one like Ray. He had started out being a loving husband but then had fallen in love with the undercover lifestyle. She had lost him long before his faked death and then his real demise. Then, briefly, oh so briefly, she had thought Horatio was making an advance. She'd leapt at it and had been rebuffed. She could only assume they were never to be, not again.

Life, until now had been, alright. She had been busy rebuilding a financial life here in Florida after losing everything in Brazil. She had made a fair but uneven amount of money as a private eye. Eventually, she knew that her calling was as a police officer. The money wasn't as good but was more certain. So, now, she was back on keel, Ray was showing signs of entering manhood and she was still all woman.

Now, prowling those dating sites, even dealing with those slightly ridiculous love notes, had given her some hope that perhaps she could find someone again. She didn't know if she could handle it but she could try.

"Hey, Yelina, where are you?"

Umeko was standing in front of Yelina with a puzzled look.

Startled out of her reverie, Yelina answered, "I'm sorry. I'm about a million miles away."

"Well, we've got the goods on these guys so come on back. Both told us they had to go out of town and said you paying for membership on the site was the only way they could keep in contact. I jumped in at this point and ran backtrack from the message to the source. Sure enough, both of them come from the same location, same computer. Too easy."

Switching gears easily, Yelina looked at the various screens. Her basic training in computer forensics allowed her to understand some of what she was seeing. "Good! I'm going to the State's Attorney's office tomorrow and let them know."

"What? No rushing in, guns drawn, shouting, breaking up servers and all? How disappointing."

"Don't lose hope. It all depends on how the office wants to handle it. If we do pull a raid, I promise, you'll be right behind us to pull plugs and seal the machines."

Umeko's small hands clasped girlishly in front of her chest. "Oh, goody, goody."

"Do you want to go out and celebrate? How about lobster and champagne?"

Umeko's face fell. "Oh, sweetheart, I can't. My oldest has the flu. Joe can only take just so much of whiney little sick kid before he goes bonkers. I gotta go home or I'll find the kids locked in a closet and Joe pouting in front of the TV. Next time?"

"For sure. You go. I'll take notes on what we have and go write up my report downstairs."

An hour and a half later, Yelina walked into her dark home. Yes, she thought, it would be so nice to find someone loving and kind waiting for me. I need someone who doesn't need maintenance, who isn't glad to see me just because I can cook a nice dinner. I want someone who can love me for who I am, who doesn't need a mother.

Only pausing to hang up her light jacket in the closet, Yelina moved to the computer in the corner of the living room and turned it on. After much discussion with Umeko, she was pretty sure she knew what she wanted to do, where and how to get it done.

Two hours after she had begun, Yelina was deep in conversation with her first real online suitor.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Ms. Wainwright, open the door; this is the police." Frank Tripp knocked loudly again. His first rap and announcement had brought only silence. This time, he stood back and to one side. If the woman was the one who had shot that guy in the nuts, he didn't want to be her next target.

After a moment, the door to the apartment opened revealing a tall, heavy set woman in a dressing gown. She looked distraught but hardly dangerous. "What can I do for you?"

Stepping forward now, Horatio holstered his weapon. He knew the men in back of him had not. "Ma'am, my name is Horatio Caine. I'm a detective with CSI and I need to ask you some questions. We have a search warrant for your apartment. We'd like to come in." Polite as his words were, his tone was all business.

Looking defeated at the sight of the five male and two female officers and their guns, Terri Wainwright stood back. Permitting entry without argument, she stared vacantly at the warrant.

Horatio indicated the couch and asked her to take a seat. He took a chair facing her. Meanwhile, Frank began a methodical search of the bedroom while the two other men and one of the women took the kitchen and the bathroom, respectively. One woman stood off to one side while Horatio talked with Terri.

Before speaking, Horatio removed a large folder from the confines of his jacket. Long ago, he'd had his clothing tailored to accommodate a variety of special needs. He often needed to carry more than his gun into a crime scene. From the folder, he took out a large photo and laid it on the coffee table beside him.

"Ms. Wainwright, did you know Gunter Brookline?"

Terri's deep set hazel eyes glazed over. Her lip quivered before gaining strength to form the word, "Yes."

"Where were you between the hours of nine and eleven in the morning, three days ago?"

Frank filled the bedroom door with a pair of shoes in one hand and a photograph in the other. "I found these Horatio."

"Put them on the coffee table here."

"I'll keep looking for the weapon."

Horatio carefully picked up the shoes and matched them one by one into the prints on the photo of the shoe prints found in Gunter's condo.

"Before you answer my question, let me tell you what this means. We found footprints in an area on the carpeting that had been shampooed just that morning. The maid was in at seven and left at nine. She cleaned that area just before she left so it was still wet at nine. Considering the humidity in Miami, we know it was wet when Mr. Brookline was shot. Whoever shot Mr. Brookline made those prints. We know from the depth of the prints that the wearer of those shoes was either extraordinarily tall or extremely heavy or a combination. The size of this shoe and the shape of your heel fits these prints exactly."

Horatio looked up and examined the woman again. "I see your ears are pierced and you wear fine wire holders for the ornaments."

Terri's hand involuntarily went to her ear.

"We found a fine wire holder similar to those you wear now in the drain in Mr. Brookline's shower."

The pause now was long enough that the woman officer shifted nervously.

Horatio reached out and softly touched the woman's knee. "Where is the gun?"

This is where the waterworks broke, noisily and sodden to the point where everyone stopped what they were doing and checked on what was going on. A look from under Horatio's eyebrows sent them all back to the search.

After a few minutes' wait and a gentle reminder of the question, Horatio got the answer.

"It's in my car, under the driver's seat," she hiccoughed.

Standing, Horatio moved the skirts of his jacket back and put his hands on his hips. "Let's let the lady get decent before we take her downtown."

Even so, Terri had to bear up under the scrutiny of the female officer while she changed into street clothes.

Two hours later Horatio faced the shortest and the tallest male members of his team.

"Have you gotten anything out of Ms. Thompson yet?"

Both Ryan and Walter looked beat down as they cast their eyes down to their shoes.

Ryan's large eyes finally rose to look beseechingly into Horatio's face. "I never knew anyone could talk so much and say so little!"

Walter chimed in, "One minute she's bragging on how her son tells her everything and the next she's denying any knowledge of what kind of chemicals could cause an explosion. Give me a break. What kid doesn't love to talk about explosives? Different ways to blow things up was all I could think of from high school chem. to my second year in college."

"One thing interesting," said Ryan, "the house search revealed a half empty jar of potassium chlorate."

Horatio's whisper filled their ears. "There is no law against owning potassium chlorate. It can be bought anywhere. We need something more."

Walter rubbed his jaw. "You mean something like proof that her son set the other bombs?"

"Walter, we don't know what else it might be. We don't know who did what or how much the mother knows. Let me talk with her. Nate has already been booked for the lab explosion and can sit in holding. You two continue working on Jupiter and Ms. N'ga."

"I thought we were going to let Ms. N'ga loose?"

"Not until after we find out what Ms. Thompson has to say. What say we give it half an hour and then meet up again?"

Instead of going directly to the interview room, Horatio made a quick dash up to his office. There he checked on his hair and pulled out his 'everyday' cologne. He put about two drops onto his fingers and ran them around his neck. He didn't want to be obvious, just quietly attractive as possible. Checking his smile, he skipped downstairs and strode quickly to the glassed in room where Jupiter's mother twisted and fidgeted in her chair.

"Ms. Thompson, I'm Detective Horatio Caine. I'd like to ask you some questions.

The woman's eyes glowed with approval of the handsome man before her.

'So far, so good'. "You seem to know quite a bit about the explosion in the lab. Why is that?"

"Oh! My boy tells me everything, just everything. Why, he was just as amazed as anyone about that bomb." Without breaking she added, "Now, you don't think my child could do that, do you?" One of her hands fluttered as she spoke.

"He's been named as a partner in the commission of the crime by his friend Nate Kinson."

"Nate! That kid's sweet but he couldn't blow his nose much less a chemistry laboratory. If he's saying he did it with my son, he's bragging on both of them."

"You're not concerned that your son's best friend is accusing him of committing a crime?"

"Not unless you believe him. If you do, just let me at him. I'll whale the daylights out of Nate and with his mother's blessings. We've all known each other since the kids were in grade school." Again the hand fluttered.

"What do you know about your son's girlfriend?"

"V? Now there's a smart little cookie even if she is a little weird. I mean the way she dresses and looks and all. I don't think she'd blow up a lab and if she did, I know my boy wouldn't do it with her. No sir!"

"What if she did? Would she have told Jupiter about it?"

"What of it? My boy would take it to his grave. You don't go telling tales on women, period. I taught him that early on. It's plain disrespectful."

"What about that jar of potassium chlorate we found at your home?"

"Oh, that; seems to me the boys brought it home because they wanted to make party poppers or something. Maybe it was for something else. They tell me so much, I forget sometimes."

The three men met again in one of the labs. They were tired.

"I can see where Jupiter gets his memory lapses."

Horatio smiled at Ryan ruefully. "Yes, the mother is smooth. She does the forgetful game like a pro." He gently rubbed one eye with a knuckle. The ceiling lights caught reflections from the coarse red hairs on the back of his hand.

"The only thing I got from the mother is that her son is perfect and his friend Nate isn't too bright. She thinks that Nate's confession is more like bragging. According to her, her son's girlfriend is the only one who could have done it. She also assured me Jupiter wouldn't tell because of some honor code she drove into him."

Walter shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I got pretty much that story from V, herself. She knows what Momma Thompson thinks of her and doesn't care. That's a fairly self contained girl in there." He hitched up his pants.

Ryan crossed his arms. "Jupiter is alarmed we brought Momma in. He wants to know what she's saying. Frankly, H, I think he told her something or she told him something."

Horatio's eyes squeezed almost closed and then opened wide. He turned to the tall black man. "Walter, please thank Ms. N'ga for her time and send her home. Remind her not to go anywhere but we're done with her for now."

Then he turned to Ryan. "Go tell Jupiter and his mother they can go home with the same instructions."

"Both of them? I don't understand."

"Ryan, we need to do some more homework on these people. We're fairly certain both of the young men and the girlfriend blew up the lab. However, we can only hold Mr. Kinson based on the print and his confession. The other two deny it and we have, as yet, no evidence to the contrary. Rather than blow our case, let's let them go. We're not going to hold them just because of the similarities to the other two bombings. Ms. Thompson is showing she's somehow connected to the bombings by her behavior. No one denies having done something as much as she has when they are entirely innocent."

"Oh, yeah, you mean, 'The lady doth protest too much.'"

"Exactly."

Ryan looked up to the other two. "So, we need to find a connection between the rock shop, Eileen Rogomar, the explosion at the university and our four suspects."

"Pick any two, three or four in any combination. Think about how we're going to look for the reason tonight and then come back in the morning and start."

Ryan wasn't so sure about how much thought he was going to be able to give the case. He was bushed.

Horatio headed for the nearest exit door which led to the outside stairs. He knew he would have to walk all the way around the building to get to the outside entrance to the underground parking, but so be it. It was better than meeting up Nacimiento, even just to pass by and acknowledge each other. He was tired and he didn't feel like dealing with Ramon's attitude.

What he wanted to do for the rest of the evening was think about his relationship with Yelina. He'd avoided thinking of it for so long it had become a habit, a bad one he intended to break. He knew why he did it, of course. Every time he thought of Yelina, other than in ways to help young Ray or to see that she was okay, his brother's image came into view. He remembered holding his body, so beaten and bloody, his face looking like raw hamburger with eyes, a voice coming from between broken teeth gurgling with blood. It had been so hard to hear those last words, to promise this slaughtered, dying creature to take care of his wife. And so, for more than six years now, he had done. It's just that, now, Yelina was once again strong and independent, not needing care. Young Ray would always need his uncle's advice but that would have been true even if his father had lived. Of the two brothers, Horatio had always been the more sensible, the go-to-guy for information on the right thing to do. Ray was the more adventurous, the more romantic in terms of dreams. Then, he got lost in those dreams. First, he had fathered a child, little red haired Maddy, by one of the fellow drug addicts he was supposed to be helping to catch. Then, he nearly got his own son killed when he got too close to the drug lords of Miami. He'd had to lay low while Horatio had rescued young Ray. In the end Yelina gave up everything to go live a life of peace with Ray in Brazil. The problem was that damned fool couldn't do it, couldn't stay straight. He got mixed up in drugs again and finally paid for it with his life. Once again, young Ray's life was put in danger as an aftermath of the mess, not once but twice. It took several years but finally, Yelina and Ray were on their own and seemingly free of his brother's influence.

Now, if only he could be free of his brother. And yet, he wasn't sure he should be when it came to Yelina. After all, he was the brother-in-law, the protector. He surely didn't have any place other than that in Yelina's life. She'd always kept her distance as well. Wasn't that a sign?

And yet, she was so beautiful. He thought of their brief affair before she'd met Ray. He had been in the Bomb Squad for some years. She was a junior level Detective working under Frank Tripp when he was still sporting that mustache. Their attraction to each other was instant. This was before the days of cell phones so they were constantly looking for ways to get to the other's departments, dropping off papers, picking up files. They both knew no one was fooled.

He had almost gotten to the point where he was seriously thinking of setting up a future with Yelina, and then he'd gotten the new assignment he'd been hoping for. He was going to do undercover work. Some police officers dream of doing that kind of job and others don't care for it. He just wanted the experience. This is where a man had to be 'someone else.' It was like playing cops and robbers when you were a kid and you had to be the bad guy sometimes. You got to be someone scruffy, who pretended to take drugs, who would cheat his mother out of her last dime for a hit. Some guys could fade into the woodwork and just be there without being noticed. Horatio had to work harder because his hair, his complexion, and his stature all worked against him. It took several small assignments for him to finally get the hardnosed pose right. Then he was really good at it, even if he did say so himself.

Finally, he had to disappear for several months in Pensacola, Florida in order to bust up a drug ring there. That's when Yelina met Ray. Ray had followed his brother from New York. Horatio, without thought, had asked Yelina to give Ray the cook's tour of the area. He hadn't given his words another thought.

Then, he'd gotten the chance to take a three day break in the assignment. He'd picked up three speeding tickets getting back to Miami. It was morning when he arrived. Without thought, parking in front of her house, he entered without knocking, calling out her name. They hadn't heard him because they were talking and the radio was on. He'd been shocked at seeing his brother in his own robe, the one Yelina said she loved to see him in. It was the one of black silk with prints of life size parrots. From the looks on their faces, they were equally shocked to see him.

It had only been four months! Couldn't she have waited before writing him off, planning a future without him? Why did Ray have to step on his life?

Horatio stopped his thoughts from going down the same useless path. Ray had always stepped on his and everyone's life without thought. It was just the way he was. As for Yelina, it was a two way street. She'd had a choice and perhaps she thought he was gone. She'd taken the bird in hand. On his end, even undercover, he could have sent her little postcards, something to keep in contact, to let her know she was important to him. If you do it right, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', but if you don't, 'out of sight, out of mind'. He obviously didn't do it right.

He had returned to Pensacola. Part of his assignment was to get close to a beautiful woman named Julia. He'd done just that; gotten real close to her; in fact, inside her pants close. It had almost felt good to abandon her when the assignment was over, to leave without so much as a look back, not caring whether she got away or was arrested. No woman was going to get close to him again for a long time.

It wasn't until sixteen years later he found out that no matter what you did, there were consequences. It had taken that long for his and Julia's son, fifteen year old Kyle, to come to the surface.

But, since that time, he had settled down, come to accept the results of his own actions. He didn't necessarily like the results but, well, life was always a learning process.

So, now, what about Yelina? Could he ever look at her without seeing Ray? Had she meant her offer the other night? Had he spoken too quickly? She'd called him a fool. Even though she'd apologized afterwards, he knew he'd caused her pain. Could he help to repair that? How to approach her again? Could he do it or was he perhaps too wounded after losing her to Ray, losing his brother and then losing Marisol before her time?

By this time, Horatio was at home on his balcony. He'd left the inside lights off. The balcony was about the only 'good' place in his condo, the only part that didn't feel cold and characterless. The balcony was part of what made Miami what it was; the feelings of warm moist towel air, the vacation-care-free-days, the wild nightlife, the sun filled-thunderhead-crowded-sky and so on. He liked that part. The inside of the condo was a place to hang his clothes, a place to sleep, to shower, nothing more.

Yelina's house, now there was a place to live. Not just because it was well designed, well furnished with a typical Florida garden filled with palms and flowers of all kinds; it was because Yelina knew how to make a place comfortable. Even when Ray was alive, their home was a great place to visit because of her. Ray, like he, could have lived in a motel. She had made each house she had lived in a joy to visit. At least, he had felt that way. Had Ray? As much as he adored his brother, that man could be a real ignorant prick sometimes.

But there was more to Yelina's charm than being able to make a house a nice place, so much more. Horatio leaned on the balustrade and stared out to the dark sea. The horizon was dotted with lights from entertainment boats and cruise ships. He heaved a sigh.

'Face it, old man. You still miss what you had with Yelina almost twenty years ago.'

The answer felt like the knell of doom to his psyche. 'Yeah, but does she?'

As a matter of fact, at that moment, Horatio was the furthest person from Yelina's mind. Instead, there were three men who looked and talked like truly interesting people and she was having the best time of her life trying to talk with all three at once. As far as she knew, they were talking to other women at the same time. She didn't care much. She was having fun and she was long past due for that.

Within an hour, two of the men had said things she found unattractive (one liked to go hunting, the other lived with his mother). She told them she didn't think they were for her and why and signed off. Then to save herself further embarrassment, she blocked them from contact. The third, however, remained interesting. Their conversation went on for another hour before she decided she needed sleep more than this much fun. She told him her job was such that her hours were uneven so she couldn't promise when she would be online next. She signed off only hoping she and he would connect again.

Lying in bed an hour later, with the moon shining through the open French doors, Yelina once again imagined being taken on horseback. This time, however, the man wasn't Horatio but was that man she had been talking to. Who knows if the picture was ten years old or taken yesterday? He had a full head of dark, wavy hair, had a well groomed full goatee around a sensitive mouth. It was he who she pictured on the horse. She imagined his shoulders were muscular and his waist was narrow. The horse, in this case, wasn't a palomino with the feathered reins but a fine Spanish brown riding horse that sported a slow, high step as he was guided with plain leather reins.

The sun, she was sure, was warmer with this darker man and horse. The path from the village was wider and there was more tall grass than palms. And, instead of a meadow surrounded by forest, they ended up on a rocky cliff overlooking the green land below.

Not falling into his arms, as she had imagined with Horatio, he simply helped her down and led her to a viewing place where, inexplicably, there was a gold silk couch for her to recline on. Well, why not? It was her fantasy. He sat on a large pillow by her shoulder and served her grapes and cheese from a lovely gold platter and a fine light wine in a golden goblet. They spent the afternoon chatting and laughing. Everything he said was flattering and charming. Later they watched the full moon rise. By this time the couch seemed to have widened and she was pleased when he joined her and later, joined with her.

When she woke in the morning, it took her a moment to realize why she felt so calm and peaceful.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Ms. Wainwright, hi, my name is Detective Duquesne and this is Detective Delko. Do I understand correctly that you are now denying having shot Gunter Brookline?"

"Oh, I shot him alright." After a night in holding, the woman seemed to have recovered from her daze the night before. She gazed forthrightly at the two detectives across the table from her

"Then you did kill him."

"No, I didn't kill him, I'm pretty sure of that."

"But, he died, you know. From gunshots."

"Yes, when I came in and saw him lying there, I could see the blood on his chest. I was pretty sure he was dead."

"But you shot him also?"

The woman crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her face carried a pouty angry frown. "Right where I wish it had hurt the most. Only, I suppose he was beyond feeling it by that time."

Calleigh nodded and looked at Eric. "Excuse us please."

In the hallway, out of Ms. Wainwright's view, Delko said, "If she's telling us the truth, it looks like I better go back to the crime scene. I missed something."

Calleigh thought merely a second before saying, "Wait, maybe not. Let's go talk to Tom first."

Telling the officer on watch by the interview room to keep an eye on Ms. Wainwright, the two headed for the elevator. Moments later they were down to the basement where the Medical Examiner's domain was.

Seeing the couple enter, Tom stood erect from his hunch over a cadaver and exclaimed, "I hear you caught the Brookline shooter."

"That's what we're here about Tom. I have a couple of questions."

"Always glad to help, Calleigh. Fire away."

"You said there were three shots to the torso, one from two feet and the next closer and then closer. Right?"

"Yes. Then once he was down, the more delicate parts of him were blown away." As light as his tone was, his face still winced in imagined pain.

"When a standing man is hit with a bullet, he flies back from the force of the traveling bullet. Right?"

"Correct. Of course, not as far back as they show in the movies, as you, the gun girl, should well know."

"Do you know anything about how far a body would go after being hit by a bullet?"

Tom nodded and smiled. "I wrote a paper on just that very subject for one of my medical forensics classes."

"Say, the first shot, which was from a distance, didn't knock him down."

"That's very possible especially if the bullet is fired from far enough away with a small caliper gun as this one was."

"Now say the shooter then advanced and shot two more times in quick succession taking a step or two forward each time. About how far back would he have gone, do you think?"

"Considering the force of the bullet, an ought-thirty-six I believe, and his body weight, I'd say he was knocked back only about a foot."

Calleigh turned to Eric. "How big was that spot on the rug?"

Eric's lips spread in that attractive cockeyed grin that said he 'got it'. "About three feet wide but only about a foot deep. If he was in front of the one foot section he could have been blown right across it. Then, considering the location of that wet spot to where our Romeo came to rest, I'd say it was a perfect place for Ms. Wainwright to stand and shoot his nether parts away."

"I'm going to do a ballistics check on her gun to see if it's different from what killed Gunter. It's the same caliper as the bullets we found that killed him. We're assuming far too much." Calleigh had that look that said she'd been fooled once and wouldn't make that mistake again.

"Do you mind if I question Ms. Wainwright some more? I mean, if she isn't lying through her teeth, maybe she saw the killer."

"Couldn't hurt."

As Calleigh walked from the evidence locker to the ballistics room, her pace quickened. No sooner had she gotten her hands on Ms. Wainwright's gun her heartbeat had quickened as her level of adrenalin rose. She hardly paid attention to it any more. She just knew that her heart and soul belonged to the guns. Actually, any kind of weapons were objects of her fascination from rifles to spear guns, knives to slingshots. She loved the feel of them in her hands, loved learning to master them, finding out what they could do under what circumstances to what kind of targets.

Finally dressed in the official lab coat, she went into the small room containing the water tank. Fitting two bullets into the gun, she called out, "Two shots!" Although the tank masked the sound of the firing fairly well, still anyone walking by could be taken by surprise.

Although two of the bullets that killed Gunter Brookline had been mangled, one was in near pristine condition. Taking the best exemplar of the two bullets she'd shot in the lab and comparing it to the one good one, her suspicions were confirmed. She then took one of the bullets pulled from the carpeting that had been shot through Gunter's testicles and nodded to herself.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and punched a number. "Eric, she's telling the truth. The bullets from the torso don't match. The bullets from the carpet under his family jewels do."

"Yeah, I thought so. Her story rings true. I'm going back to the condo."

"Did she see anyone?"

"She says no. I sort of get the feeling that she was really pissed off at him when she went up there. I don't think she was paying much attention to anything around her then. On the other hand, maybe I haven't talked to her long enough to jog her memory."

"I'll go back and talk with her then."

Twenty-five minutes later, Ms. Scarlatti opened the door to the lobby for Delko. She looked happy to see him. "Well, you can't be back for more business so it must be a social visit."

"Actually, it is business. I have to take another look at the Brookline condo."

Her bright smile faded and her face became blank. "You're serious. How long does something like this take before you say you're done? My bosses are complaining. The place has to be cleaned and put back onto the market!"

Trying to be pleasant under the criticism, Eric smiled. "If you give me the keys, I'll just go on up."

She turned and went around her desk to the key box which was inserted into the wall in back. Taking the key ring from the holder on her belt, she used one to open the box and removed one of the keys from a hook.

"I just thought, you say you don't work nights, right?"

Ms. Scarlatti tugged on her black vest. "Yes, there's a security guard manning the cameras from four to midnight but no one after that until the morning guard and I come on at seven."

"If people forget their keys at night, what can they do?"

The woman's hand touched the miniature bow tie at her throat. "After midnight, the residents are expected to take some responsibility. They have to call locksmiths."

"What about getting into the building in the first place? You told me the front door is locked when you leave and it takes a key to operate the elevator."

Ms. Scarlatti's face took on an impish grin. "This is when it pays to make friends with the neighbors. You have to call someone in the building and ask them to come down to the elevator. One of our more forgetful residents keeps a supply of very good scotch on hand. Some solve both dilemmas by giving a neighbor duplicate keys as well as having their phone number." She handed Eric the keys he sought. "Otherwise, there's always hotels."

Eric held up the key. "I'll give this back when I leave."

Upstairs, Eric was alarmed to see the red evidence seal tape placed across the door had been broken. Following protocol, he called Horatio.

"Have you gone in yet?"

"No."

"Print the door and then go in. Just remember to seal it when you leave."

"Will do."

Eric surveyed the room before crossing the threshold. First, he was surprised to see the patio door was open and a seagull was perched on the top of the entertainment center. Before he could move, he heard the elevator doors open down the hall. As a resident stepped into the hallway, the breeze came in from the outside and blew the front shut in Eric's face. Just as quickly, Eric tried to open the door and found the door locked again. Not only did the door knob lock automatically, the dead bolt had a spring action triggered by electrical contact with the frame. Trying not to look stupid as the resident stared before opening her own door, he opened the door again. By this time, the seagull was gone.

Walking in, Eric swung the heavy door to close it but didn't hear the telltale click. He turned to see the door slightly ajar. Apparently, the door had to be closed purposely with a bit of force to make it lock. Ms. Wainwright's words echoed in his head. She said she had gone to the door and knocked. She was angry so she knocked hard and felt the door give slightly. That's when she realized it wasn't quite closed. She'd gone in and seen Gunter lying on the floor, the blood still seeping from his chest. The robe was open from the sash down, his legs splayed, showing his sexual parts. Not being able to get any satisfaction from actually killing him, she did the next best thing, aimed for the groin.

So, whoever had shot him had just left and in such a hurry, hadn't pulled the door closed. The deadbolt had remained unlocked as well as the doorknob part.

So, had Brookline allowed entry to whoever had shot him?

That didn't make sense. Eric put himself in Gunter's place. A guy is at home, relaxed in his shorty robe. He hears the doorbell and checks the peephole and sees an irate woman. Is he going to let her in? This guy is a lover, not a fighter. He'd ignore her. If a woman wants to be mad, he'd let her go be mad some place else.

So, was she already inside? Maybe his guest found some evidence she didn't like? Maybe another woman came to the door and this one heard some things she didn't like another woman's voice from the bedroom?

Yeah, could work. No, wait, Ms. Trebuko said she had left about nine, didn't she? More, she denied having seen anyone else when she left.

Okay, back to Gunter relaxing after a night of rolling in the hay. He's alone and someone he knew had come to the door. He had no reason to suspect anger; his guest from the night before was gone. Maybe he thought it was a woman who just couldn't live without getting some sex from him. It could happen. Or maybe he thought Ms. Trebuko had forgotten something. He opens the door without looking. This new one suddenly pulls a gun calling him out of his name. She shoots and he maybe stumbles back. She advances and fires twice more in succession and blows him back.

Eric slowed his thoughts and calmly reminded himself the shooter could just as well have been a man especially if you take the second set of shots out of the equation.

Wait! Wouldn't there have been some evidence of that first shot if it had taken place in front of the scrubbed area. They'd tested for blood in the cleaned spot and it just showed wine stains and some ground in food. Had they thought to test the area in front of the spot? Probably not. By the time CSI had arrived, that area was pretty well traveled. The police had come in and out, not thinking to preserve an area wider than fifteen feet around the body.

Looking at the pathway from the door, Eric saw it was noticeably clean for a place that had seen any number of police and forensic people much less been the primary site for a shooting. He couldn't remember offhand what the area looked like when he was first here but he would bet there was a change.

Eric went to the phone and found exactly what he thought he would; a sticker showing several speed dial numbers including the door person and another labeled Consuela, maid. He called the maid.

"Consuela, this is Detective Delko." He spoke Spanish to avoid any confusion and to hurry the process of communication. "Have you been in the Brookline condo in the last few days?"

Hearing a confirmation, he continued. "Did you open the patio door?"

He received another yes. "Did you remove anything?"

"Please bring it to me."

After she tried to object, Eric told her, "It's alright if you haven't had a chance to clean it. In fact, don't touch it, just bring it here. Also, if you would, bring a large plastic bag to put it in."

By the time he had finished putting up more red tape and initialing it, Consuelo arrived. Seeing he had forgotten to caution her not to put the object in the bag, he sighed in resignation, and thanked her. Then he admonished her to not enter the condo again until receiving instructions from her manager and sent her on her way.

Downstairs, handing the keys back to Ms. Scarlatti, Eric asked, "Do you have a master key or do you have to bring keys for each individual unit?"

She patted the wad of keys at her waist, "One master key per floor. It's one of those super things that can be set to change configuration a certain number of ways."

"What do you do with the keys when you leave at night?"

"Put them into the key box here and then just take the box key home with me. The general manager of the building also has master keys as does the night guard and the nearest fire station."

"Doesn't sound like anyone can lay hands on those keys easily."

"Frankly, I wouldn't give two cents for the security here but they try. It's better than some of the condo buildings."

"What would be better?"

"Twenty-four hour security, night watchman making rounds and more cameras."

Eric nodded. "Yeah, but that costs money."

"So, they have me at the door for nine hours and Bob and Mark on the cameras seventeen hours a day." She shrugged her shoulders. "Bob and Mark are both retired guys who are making some extra coin so they're worth what they're paid and me, well, I'm hoping to meet some fancy, rich guy who'll take me away from all this fun I'm having."

"But not a resident here, right?"

Her face hardened. "The rules say no."

Back at the lab, Eric confirmed his suspicions. The new fingerprints on the door were Consuelo's. She had gone in to first try to air out the residence, then, seeing the entry way rug (that happened to match the loose pile of the carpeting exactly) with a few spots on it, she had picked it up and meant to clean it. Thank goodness, she hadn't gotten around to it yet.

Although any of the shooter's prints had been obliterated, there was, at least blood evidence and it did confirm Calleigh's thinking about the shots. It still didn't rule on the sex of the killer. As far as he was concerned, that was the first order of business.

First, he took a sample to Maxine to confirm that the blood came from Brookline.

She immediately got to work giving Eric an annoyed look when he didn't leave.

"What do you want for dinner tonight?" she asked.

"Who says I want any dinner?"

"Don't you want to eat tonight?"

"Yeah, but does it have to be dinner?"

"Are you being as nasty as I think you are?"

"Depends on how nasty…"

Maxine lunged at him. "My god! Get your mind out of the gutter! Jeez!"

The ding of the confirmation interrupted her. She handed him the results saying, "My place? Whenever you get off?"

He took a quick look around and gave her a kiss on the neck. "You know it."

He took the rug's measurements. It was just big enough to reach from the door to just short of the spot that had been cleaned probably moments before. The first blood spatter showed a shot about halfway from the door to the end and then maybe a quick double shot.

If only Consuelo hadn't taken it. Although the pile would have made reading the pattern of the blood spatter more difficult, it still could have been possible. Eric stood over the table where he had laid the light tan carpeting. Unconsciously he stood in a stance similar to what Horatio often took, his right arm across his waist, his left elbow perched on the right wrist as his fingers stroked is chin. Without realizing it, he was also imitating the man's thoughts, looking at the material in front of him as a puzzle in disarray, wondering how to put it together.

He snapped his fingers and went to the nearest computer monitor. Tapping the keyboard, he quickly had an array of pictures. After several minutes of study, he had chosen ten exemplar photos of typical blood spatter. Two hours later, he had something as close to evidence as he could hope for.

The next step was to go through the fingerprints he'd collected from the scene. He had to use some of the sophisticated print toys for this step.

Finally, something else had been bothering him but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He went to the evidence locker.

After a couple of hours of work, he put in a call. "Horatio, I think I've got an idea about who we need to bring in for questioning. Meet me in the layout lab."

Horatio quietly slid into the print lab, his fingers playing with each other as his mind played with the possibilities of what Eric had come up with. "Eric? Calleigh told me about the difference in bullets from Ms. Wainwright's gun and what was found in Mr. Brookline's body. She also said the bullets dug from the floor did match the gun we took from the car."

"I've got two pieces of evidence, H. First, look at the rug here." He told Horatio about Consuelo's overzealous efforts at keeping things tidy. "It took some effort but I think I was able to rearrange the pile to show where the spatter fell."

"I see it." Horatio turned his head first one way and then the other. "Tell me, am I seeing a void here in what should be the last shot?"

"Unless I'm mistaken, it's a shoe print. From the size of it, I'd say that's proof our shooter was a woman."

"Only, it's a little strange for a high heel."

"To me, it looks more like a loafer with a bit of heel to it."

"Do you think the overnight guest did it?"

"I considered that but it's facing into the room and there's no other voids. Unless she never spent the night, came in and shot him and then said she had spent the night... that just doesn't make sense."

"No, Eric, it doesn't."

Horatio stared at the photos of the place rug pulling up his own long experience with blood spatter and perp behavior.

Shaking his head, he asked, "What else have you got?"

"My thought was that he was alone and heard a knock on the door. Whoever it was seemed to be no threat to him so he opened the door. She or he came in, was angry, and started reading him the riot act. He backed off and the person fired the gun. He didn't fall so the person came closer and fired twice, knocking him back and into the entertainment center."

"Sounds reasonable."

"The shooter then left, leaving the door slightly ajar. Otherwise, if the door had been closed all the way, Ms. Wainwright couldn't have gotten inside. She came in, saw the job was done before she could get at lover boy and so she let off a little steam and then left."

"And now you have an idea of who the first person was?"

"The outer doorknob is useless for prints what with people coming and going, shoving the door open more to do their work. The inside knob though was another story. I decided to use the layer-print-lift method to see if I could figure out who worked that handle within the half hour or so around the time Casanova was killed."

"Did the maid clean the door handle?"

"No, which made the job a little harder but not impossible."

"I found three partial prints on top. Then, I went a step further. Remember what I found in the secret stash in his closet?"

Ten minutes later, Eric had finished his explanation.

As Eric had talked, Horatio felt the muscles in his jaw stiffen, the area between his heavy brows narrow. "Eric, we have to bring her in."

Half an hour later, through the large glass doors to the foyer, they could see the door person's desk was unoccupied. They both knew there were sensors along the long tiled path from the street to the doors which warned the clerk of approaching guests if she was elsewhere.

Getting to the door quickly and letting themselves in, Eric took a quick look at the desk and nodded at it, smiling. Horatio followed the path of Eric's gaze, saw the sound monitor, and heard it peeping softly. Apparently, she hadn't thought it necessary to carry it with her. He smiled back.

They both pulled out their guns. Using hand signals, Horatio was going to take the path under the second floor to investigate the elevators from the garage and the hall to the rear entrance. He wanted Eric to go up the stairs to the second floor and take a look at the mail room and anything else up there.

Just as Eric was at the third stair, he was stopped short by Ms. Scarlatti's sudden appearance at the rail around the edge of the floor. She had a gun aimed at him.

"Don't you come up here!"

"Drop the gun, Ms. Scarlatti!"

"No! you drop yours! I'll shoot just like I did that lying scumbag!"

"So, you did shoot Brookline?"

"Shooting was too good for him. He should have been tossed him off the balcony!"

"So you knew you weren't the only woman?"

"How could I not? The parade through the lobby?"

"Did you know he kept trophies hidden in his place?"

She faltered, almost waving the gun away from her target. "Trophies?"

"I guess you like the scent of patchouli flowers. Not only was there a tube of lubricant with that aroma in the bag marked with your name, but there was a small baggy with a used condom in it as well. Maybe he liked to relive the conquests."

The gun lowered for a moment.

"If he did this so often, what finally caused you to take action, shall we say?"

Tears came to her eyes as her hands grasped each other in her lap. "I just got tired of always being the bridesmaid."

"Excuse me?"

Her voice started out quietly. "I wanted to get married! I didn't want to just get banged for the sake of sex! He said he wanted to marry me! But it wasn't true! I said no to going to is place at first because it was against the rules but he said he was really attracted to me and he would make sure it would be okay!" She lowered her head not paying attention to where the gun was aimed.

Horatio made his move, stepping out from under the balcony, his gun aimed at Ms. Scarlatti's left side. She could not have shot both men without being shot by the other. "Drop your gun please, ma'am."

Seeing the redhead, she suddenly bolted and ran for an open elevator.

"She's headed for the garage, Eric!"

"I'll take the freight elevator, H!"

Horatio was already running down the stairwell.

She beat them by five seconds so when both men arrived and eyed each other, there was no other sound.

Horatio hated this. Women on the run could be compared to wild foxes. They were cunning, could hide in the most unlikely places, and had the patience to stay in one place for hours on end if necessary. The difference here was that this fox was armed and had already proven herself dangerous.

Making a decision, Horatio pulled out his phone and called the patrol car that had accompanied them. Using a normal tone of voice so he wouldn't alarm the prey and yet so he could make her aware of the hopelessness of her situation, he said, "Call in more officers. I want the rear exit to the building blocked, as well as the front, and the entrance to the garage. Thank you."

Turning and standing with his gun in both hands but as non-threatening as possible, he called out, "Ms. Scarlatti, I think you heard my call. There is no way for you to get out now. Please come out and give yourself up."

A flying shadow and the flash of gunfire with a bullet flying past his ear was his answer.

Automatically, he returned the shot but knew she was gone already.

"H! Are you okay?"

"Keep your head down, Eric."

Horatio hated being shot at. He paused and calmed his breathing. Slowing the part of his racing thoughts that screamed for vengeance took longer. She was scared and, given a chance, would probably give up without much of a struggle.

Both men went on the prowl. The predicament here was they could easily have mistaken each other for Ms. Scarlatti where she had no such problem. Moments ticked by as all took their soft footed steps, guns drawn. The sound of heartbeats became louder than the distant noise of traffic from the street above. The men could only hope she would make the first mistake.

Suddenly, Eric stood and shouted, "H, here! I see her!"

As both men knew she would, Ms. Scarlatti panicked, stood and fired where Eric had been but wasn't any more. At the very same moment, Horatio stood and fired.

Ms. Scarlatti screamed once and dropped to the garage floor.

Running to her, Eric was first to reach her and kick the gun away.

Horatio ran up, his face full of concern. Kneeling down, he was relieved to see the woman's eyes flicker and then open. His gaze went to the widening patch of red on her upper right arm near her elbow and the muscles on his face relaxed. For once, he was glad that a shot had missed its true mark.

They got the whole story while waiting for the ambulance.

"He said he'd make it alright if we were caught together only he didn't. Someone saw me go into his place and noticed I didn't come out for nearly two hours. I don't know what he told them but it wasn't anything that made it okay. Would you believe they put in an extra camera on each floor because of me? Do you think those surveillance cameras are just to catch criminals? No! They're trained on me as well. I fooled them. After Gunter had left me to twist in the wind, I made sure not to spend more than five minutes talking with a resident, so they'd think it was okay. So I took a gun up to Gunter's apartment and when he opened the door, I stepped in so the cameras couldn't see me, closed the door so the sound wouldn't go far and I shot him!" By the time she had finished, she was shouting.

Her voice then lowered to a whisper. "It only took a second but it felt oh, so good! That look of shock on his face was funny. He couldn't imagine why I would want to shoot him."

"What did you do after that? Just go back to work?"

"When I left I saw someone was coming up in the elevator so I used my master key to go into the empty condo down the hall. Whoever it was must have gone into his place." She smiled slightly. "I heard two shots. I got the news through the grapevine that she shot off his nuts. Another misused and abused sister trying to get her bit in. As soon as she left, I went downstairs, changed my shirt which had blood on it, and then went back to my desk."

"The black on the rest of your uniform doesn't show the blood."

Ms. Scarlatti almost leaned back in resignation as an oxygen mask was put on her face. She immediately raised it to say, "No, but I suppose you have all kinds of stuff that will find some. I don't care anymore. I did what I was supposed to do."

"And that was?"

"Paid him back for all the lying and cheating and the rest. You know what they say."

"What's that?"

"Revenge is sweet but payback is better."

"Don't you think someone will care that Mr. Brookline is dead?"

"Two women in the space of five minutes shot him. What do you think? All I know is, I waited too long."

The EMT's loaded the gurney into the ambulance.

Ramon Nacimiento closed the folder carefully and purposefully. He raised his head slowly and looked Natalia Boa Vista straight in the eyes. "Do you really think I'm going to take this seriously?"

Natalia felt the shock of his words down to her toes. "I took those measurements three times. They fit exactly with what Dr. Loman's calculations. I think my conclusions as to what happened in the office while Troy Delaney was there back up the measurements as well."

"And you actually called this man in and measured his arms?"

"As you can see from the comparison with Dr. Loman's report…"

"Did you measure the kid, Delaney's arm? Did you measure Cadet Caine's arm? Did you measure that woman from Child Protective Services who was on the campus at the time of the murder, who was known to have had an affair? Did you measure her arm?" The man was snarling with spittle coming out of his mouth by this time.

"Cadet Caine is too short to have caused the wounds on Trainer's head as they were. Only someone as tall as Mr. Anchiova could have done it."

"Or another adult? One like that woman who was there? Was she wearing high heels?"

"If you want me to measure her swing, just say so Ramon. Don't belittle what I've done."

Nacimiento's lips disappeared beneath his thin mustache as he scowled. "I'll belittle anything that isn't up to CSI standards, Detective. I'm sure Caine wouldn't let you get away with this as reason to arrest anyone and I'm sure as hell not going to."

Natalia held out her hand. "Alright, I'll measure Ms. Fontana's arms and her height as well and add it to the jacket."

He slid the folder closer to his side of the desk. "No, I'm keeping this. You just plod along and do your bit like a good little girl. When you have something, you can give it to me and I'll add it to what little you've done, so far. My people will try to make sense of what we've actually accomplished. We can only hope to find the killer before he's in the wind."

Natalia wheeled around and headed out of Ramon's office and down the halls as fast as she could. It had been a long time since she had been so furious. The worst of it was, she told herself, was that she couldn't go 'tattle' to Horatio. It just wasn't done. Like any other member of the police force, she had to suck it up, do her job no matter how hard it was.

No, wait, she'd gotten so involved in the case, she'd forgotten Calleigh's nuggets of wisdom. She knew Nacimiento was involved with Anchiova somehow. Thank goodness, she was fairly sure Ramon didn't think she knew anything about it. Now, to take some time and prove a connection between the two and find the reason that Nacimiento would want to protect Anchiova. Well, not now, tomorrow.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Even a near sleepless night couldn't dim the dark vibrancy in Natalia's eyes. Maybe it was the spark of determination she was feeling. She had seen that there was a connection between Nacimiento and Anchiova, had heard Ramon's defense of the man; now all she had to do was figure out where the connection was. Yeah, 'all', like that would be easy.

Her mind had worked half the night making a list of ways to find an association. Basically, it all boiled down to one thing. Look up the lives of both men and then find an intersecting point. Two hours later, she had some information but still nothing tangible. It had all started when, as a patrol officer, Nacimiento had stopped Anchiova on a traffic violation. After that, the careers of both men had risen dramatically in their own respects. Anchiova, already a rich man under questionable circumstances, had gotten richer. Not surprisingly, he never got another traffic ticket of any kind in the Miami-Dade area. Over time, Nacimiento was unduly recognized for what would be merely considered as duty performance in any other officer. Even after Anchiova had moved from the county after a charge of drug trafficking had been dropped for lack of proper evidence, Nacimiento's rise through the ranks had continued.

This was information, however, not evidence. Suddenly the lack of sleep caught up with Natalia and she felt her brain freeze up. As usual in this kind of situation, a sort of panic came over her. She'd never get it and another criminal would get away with causing disorder and it would all be her fault!

'Settle down, girl. This is how _he_ used to get to you. He'd tell you it was all your fault and you were being careless on purpose and smack you. That was then, this is now. Take deep breath, pull out that knowledge that you can do this. Go take a minute.'

In the break room, she poured herself some coffee and sat down contemplating her ridiculous state of mind. 'Think, girl! Use the FBI and CSI training you've been given. You don't just look at something and declare it is evidence; you extrapolate and forecast and then prove it to be so under any circumstance. Nacimiento and Anchiova have a connection, that's clear. Their mutual rise in circumstances isn't just coincidence. (There's no such thing as coincidence in a crime.) I've got evidence that implicates Zander Anchiova in the murder of Kelsey Trainer. Would Nacimiento do something to save his buddy? What could he do?'

The first answer to her self posed question was too shocking to even consider so she went to the next possibility. He'd maybe continue to belittle her findings and make her doubt herself. Defense attorneys love nothing better than a law officer who can't give a straight answer in court. If he was old-school enough he'd even find someone likely, someone who had a prison record (maybe a janitor or a dish washer), who he could strong arm into a confession before any more evidence could be presented. Before the days of forensics, many officers did that just to be able to say a case was solved and get it off their desks.

Washing out the cup and setting it on the rack, she came to a conclusion. All she could do was be watchful, do her job on the case, and see what happened.

"H, I'm going to go talk to Mr. Rogomar again. I'm taking the photos of Jupiter, V, and Nate with me and see if their faces jog his memory."

"Good idea, Mr. Wolfe. There's a connection in the bombings some place."

As soon as Wolfe had turned away, Horatio pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Walter, I'd like you to go talk with your connection in the chemistry lab at the university again. Maybe someone heard the kids talking among themselves about Mrs. Rogomar. Also, look for a connection between Mrs. Rogomar and perhaps the staff."

He then went to visit Travers at his table.

"Mr. Travers, is there any news on the clothing taken from the students' residences?"

The slender man smiled. "Oh, yes. Potassium chlorate spread evenly over sleeves and the fronts in the exact amounts of what one would expect in the situation explained to me. Also bits of glass in the shoes caused, no doubt, when they walked in to look at their handiwork. One more thing that nails their hides to the cross."

Horatio turned his side to Travers and cocked his head while he smiled. "And what is that?" The whisper was nearly as full of glee as the Brit's voice was properly under control.

"Apparently they did their dirty work just after the custodians had cleaned the hallways. They had walked on the slightly wet floors picking up the cleaning agent and a light bit of floor wax before picking up the dust of the potassium chlorate and then the glass shards after. Once the floors were dry, within half an hour I'd say, that transfer wouldn't have been possible."

"So, we have a neat little time line as well as evidence of their involvement with the materials involved."

"Absolutely."

"Thank you, Mr. Travers. This has helped immensely."

Positioned in the central hallway, Horatio could see and be seen from any point in the lab. It gave him the feeling of being in control as well as the feeling he could be touched by anyone who needed him. Standing with legs spread apart, he pulled his phone out to answer it.

"Yes, Ryan."

He looked surprised. Your timing is very interesting. Yes, do."

Next he called Frank.

"Frank, I need you to send out a unit to pick up our Ms. N'ga from her college dorm. We have what we need on her and the other two now. Yes, we're following up on the other two bombings."

"Lottie, have you got time for a few more questions?"

"I thought you had the bombers."

"We're just trying to tie up some loose ends. You have the time?"

"Can you give me maybe twenty minutes? Then we can go get some coffee. Is that alright?"

Walter nodded and then watched the gorgeously dark woman in the bright loose dress sway alluringly down the hall away from him. 'Yup', he told himself, 'for certain, I have to find my way into her good graces and figure out how to stay there'.

He sighed before he realized he was blocking the flow of students in the hall. It took a minute to get into the rhythm of how kids walked and moved among each other. Soon, though, he was in sync and no one was even taking notice of his size.

"Professor Nostromos? I'd like to ask a few questions, if I may?"

"And you are?"

Walter wondered how anyone could forget him but he explained anyhow.

"Oh! Yes! Sure, I've got a moment. Still think it was more than an idiot student prank, do you?"

Walter dipped his head and grinned. "No, I'm entirely with you now, sir. We have the one responsible. What I'm wondering is if you have any idea as to why he might have done it? Just being an idiot, going for destruction, or more?"

The professor was differently attired than he had been on their first encounter. Before, he wore a collared shirt and jacket but no tie. Today he was in jeans and a body fitting t-shirt. Walter was surprised to see the bulge of well formed muscles on the gray bearded man.

Nostromos leaned back in his chair with tented fingers under his chin. "Oh, some of the kids today feel entitled. If they believe they have been treated unjustly, gotten a grade lower than what they deserve, they believe they have a right to their own form of justice."

"There was a woman who was killed by the same type of a bomb earlier that day. Have you heard of her?"

"Here on campus?" The professor bounced forward, a look of alarm on his face.

"No sir, she was killed in her home, off campus."

Relaxing back in his chair, the professor waved his hand casually. "Oh, if it hasn't happened on campus, I'm not likely to know anything about it. You might want to ask the teachers or their assistants."

"I'm talking with Lottie next."

"Just don't take up too much of her time. She's my right and left arm and I couldn't survive the ever increasing paperwork of running a department without her." The professor looked sharply at Walter. "Don't tell her I said so. She thinks I'm a mean old man who would eat her alive if I have the mind to."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Actually, I'm grooming her to go for her PhD in chemistry and then to take my place as head of the department when the time comes."

Walter had to bite his tongue and not ask if the professor was aware of Lottie's desire to go into crime forensics. He rose to his feet instead. "Well, I'm going to ask around about any rumors anyone might have heard about using the potassium chlorate in a jar with ball bearings in an off campus way. I'll send Lottie back as soon as I'm done."

They shook hands.

Nostromos winked as he said, "I saw the way you looked at her the first time. If you promise not to take up too much of her time, I'll say good luck with her son."

Saying an embarrassed thank you, Walter went out to find Lottie.

A few minutes later, they were comfortably seated under an umbrella at an outdoor café. The first wisps of cooler afternoon air tugged at the tails of Lottie's headband.

"Professor Nostromos isn't such a bad guy, is he?"

"Ha! You should have to work with that tyrant. I guess he can't tell the difference between real life and professorial pose in the lecture auditorium; he has to challenge anything and everything everywhere. I can take it because my father was a real militant kind of a jerk. He'd smack us kids for not following orders exactly. Nostromos doesn't hit so he's okay in my book."

"Do you think the kids who blew up the place were mad at him about something?"

"I don't know why. They were undergrads so they didn't have anything to do with the grand Pooh-Bah of the science department."

"How did you get in with him?"

Lottie shrugged her bare shoulders. "I'm a grad student. I applied for the job after the last of four this year had quit. No one thought I'd last two weeks much less two years. It's been worth it though."

"Would you know anything about his social life outside of the campus?"

"All I know is he's married, his grown kids are out of the house and as you can tell, he goes to the gym a lot. I think his social life is playing university politics. He goes to functions that have to do with bringing in money. He hosts parties for the Dean, all that nonsense. Other than that, he publishes papers and occasionally revises the one book he's had published."

"I'm wondering if you know anything about those kids. Don't say I told you this but we think there's a connection to a couple of other bombings that occurred earlier."

"I read about those."

"The bomber used exactly the same process, the potassium chlorate, the jar, and all. So, did you notice anything else about those three kids and maybe anyone else?"

Lottie's head dropped for a moment as she seemed to contemplate her calm hands in her lap. The only movement Walter noticed was that her eyes were quickly darting up and down, and side to side, as if she were sorting through information. It reminded him he had another question he wanted to ask her.

Finally she raised her head. "I don't think it's important but Jupiter's mother came to visit him several times this semester. She'd wait in the hallway until his class was over and then he'd take her in and show her around. The thing is, that's typical of some local parents; showing up and making sure their babies are doing alright. It's memorable only because she made such a big deal out of greeting 'her baby boy' and he wasn't even embarrassed about it. He'd almost squirm like a little kid when he greeted her."

Walter smiled. "It just might be something to go on, Lottie. I'm going to look into it. Thanks."

"I'm glad and you're welcome." She tilted her head as she said softly, "You know, when you don't act like a silly-ass, you're nice."

Both of them knew that if his skin wasn't so dark, he would show he was red as a beet. "Gosh! Yeah, I'll remember that."

She rose. "I'd better toddle on my way. I have some studying to do."

He watched her swish alluringly away for only a second. Recovering his tongue as best he could, he called out. "By the way, when are you coming to the CSI lab?"

"When is a good time?"

Thinking fast, wanting it all to happen now, yesterday, ASAP, Walter considered his schedule in the lab. "Let's say tomorrow around eleven? Would that be good?"

Walking away, Lottie looked over her shoulder and said, "I'll be seeing you in the lab at eleven then. Call me if something comes up."

Walter smiled and made a determination that nothing was going to come up even if he had to singlehandedly catch every criminal in the city between now and eleven in the morning tomorrow.

Horatio couldn't help but overhear part of the conversation going on between Umeko and Yelina in the computer lab.

"You're kidding! That's great! What's his name?"

"So far, all I have is Umberto."

"Where are you meeting?"

"At the bar in that new restaurant in the Bixler Hotel."

"Oh, the place called Slow Cooking, where everything is roasted or barbecued for hours on end."

"Yes but we won't be eating. We've both agreed that it will be a half hour limit."

This was too much for Horatio. He couldn't just pass it by, not now. He stepped into the lab.

"What's this I'm hearing?"

Yelina almost looked embarrassed as she replied, "I'm going out on a date, Horatio."

Horatio tried to make his voice as sincere as possible. "That's wonderful. I hope you have fun."

Fully recovered now, Yelina smiled as enigmatically as she knew how. "I'm sure I will." She turned back to talk to Umeko.

Feeling dismissed, Horatio wistfully went on his way trying to not wish this Umberto ill.

Actually, Horatio's imagination ran wild at the thought of Yelina and a stranger together, even on a brief and innocent date in public. What if they enjoyed each other's company so much he would ask her out on another date? Suppose Yelina was attracted to the man? No doubt, being police officer first, she would check the guy out. And what if, he had no record and was all he purported himself to be? Wouldn't it follow that, being all the woman he knew her to be she would allow her feelings to reign?

Horatio had seen Yelina work men for their feelings when on undercover assignments. When she had no feelings about the men, she was good at rousing even the least interested targets. Personally, Horatio knew that when she was interested in a man, she got what she wanted.

He recalled one night in particular, before Ray. They had been dating for quite some time and he wanted to take it further, but wasn't quite sure how to go about it. Apparently, she had also wanted to take it further and got tired of waiting for him to make his move.

She had cooked dinner for them a couple of times before. She was living in a modest apartment then in a third floor walk-up. This kind of climb was nothing by New York standards but quite a disadvantage in Miami at the time so it was cheap. The only good part about it was that the small balcony offered a great view. Twice they had eaten watching the sun set behind the city and the Everglades and the sea beyond. Then they had sat on the couch, drank a little wine, kissed a few times and then he had declared an early work day and left.

When talking about a date this time, she again said she would like to cook dinner and he agreed. It was fun watching her bustle around the tiny galley kitchen. When she would step outside through the door at the opposite end, onto the stairway area where she kept the tiny garbage can, from where he usually sat, he had a great view as she bent over to dump the vegetable cuttings. Then too, her cooking was very good indeed. He loved Central and South American cooking and she knew both besides Cuban style.

That evening, even though he had run up the stairs, he wasn't out of breath. He had raced up the three flights not only because he was so anxious to see this wonderful lady he was dating but he used any excuse to do a brief bit of cardio exercise. Reaching her door, he readjusted the paper bag on his hip. It carried the dessert he'd stopped off to get; the rich honey balls they both enjoyed. He also ran a hand through the lock of hair that had fallen over his freckled forehead, pulling it back into place. Finally, leaning against the door jam in the manner he liked to greet her, he knocked.

Even if he had not run up the stairs, the sight of her alone made him feel like he had just completed a marathon. At work and even on their dates so far, the most she had shown was a bit of cleavage. Yes, the dresses on dates had shown her figure to better advantage but that was all. This evening, there was no doubt about what she was made of. She wore shorts that left no doubt about where her legs connected to her hips. At the top, the shorts were held up by a leather belt leveled just below her 'inny' belly button. Between that and the bottom of her top was nothing but hip, waist and a whole lot of skin upwards. Her breasts were contained inside a bit of material with rode over each shoulder in a pouf. It was tied just under the mounds of flesh that completely took his breath away.

Through the red flush that was not only on his skin but behind his eyes as well, he thought he heard her low pitched greeting but he couldn't respond. Only when he felt the sack being lifted from his grasp and felt a light kiss on his cheek was he able to come to his senses. Hauling himself from the door jam he nearly stumbled into the front room.

She stepped into him and looked up inquiringly. "Don't you like it? I thought, since we're not going out, I'd just be casual."

That was when she laid the most sensual kiss he'd ever had in his life on his lips. It was light, lasting and had just a hint of tongue.

After swallowing at least once (his memory of that moment was never clear) he found he still had a voice. "Oh, yeah, I like it. I like what's in it even better." He embraced her and kissed her, almost going too far. From long experience, he found that no matter how much he wanted it, waiting was, by far, the best tactic. He released her before she had a chance to withdraw.

Looking at him critically for just a moment and seeming to come to a decision, she held up the bag and asked, "Is this what I think it is?"

"This time I got coquitos. Is that alright?"

"Perfect."

The next couple of hours were a blur in his memory. He knew he had planted his butt on the couch so he wouldn't approach her again. His system wouldn't be able to stand being close to her without conquering her. He had pictures of her legs carrying her breasts here and there from one end of the kitchen to the other, the waist twisting and stretching as she turned and reached. There was an occasional flash of her khaki covered ass with legs sticking out. Then there was dinner, but he couldn't remember what they ate. All he could remember was her ringlets surrounding that model perfect face, and those breasts half covered in, was red? Or was it orange?

But then, after that, his memory came in crystal clear. Their plates weren't empty and yet they rose from their chairs in unison. He went to her and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her too fast, went too far and wasn't going to stop. He knew it was right because he could feel her arms wrapping around him, her tongue in his mouth doing tricks he never knew could be done.

Somehow, some way, they moved through the door into the bedroom. He didn't take her in, she hadn't taken him, they just moved like it was supposed to be. The odd part was, at the same time, they had kissed and groped all the way. By the time they were beside the bed, they had done more making out than in all of their dates put together.

Then, everything stopped as, with her body language and her smile and her eyes, she invited him to undress her. Oh! Lord! The bliss of that moment! He had bent down and kissed her and at the same time allowed his hands to fumble at the loose knot at her blouse. As soon as the first part of the knot came loose, he dropped his lips to her neck and then to her shoulder. At the complete loosening of the top, he pulled the ties down and felt the entire bit of material drop to the floor behind her. With that, he let his lips find her right breast. He inhaled deeply through his nose as he took the flesh into his mouth. His tongue swirled and played with the nipple as it hardened and protruded.

He had placed his hands on her back and drew her up to him. Whether his lips on her breast or his pulling her up brought the gasp of pleasure, he neither knew nor cared at this point. He was laying claim to his woman, pleasuring her so she would want to be with him.

Finally, his hand came to her waist and in front. Slowing down now, he left her breast and got to his knees. Feeling her hands on his hair, working around to the back and to his neck and down his back and up, he maintained his focus on her belt and then the buttons and finally the zipper. The pants quickly dropped to the floor. He kissed her belly button and stuck his tongue into the opening drawing a giggle from her. Okay, this wasn't a turn on. She was ticklish.

He vividly remembered the color of her lingerie because it was as if she wasn't wearing any at all. What there was of it matched the tint of her skin perfectly. In a way, since it covered her pubic hairs, it gave her the look of childish innocence down there. When he thought about it later (he wasn't thinking at the time, of course) he realized it wasn't all that attractive. He liked his women to look like women, breasts, pubic hair, and all.

As soon as he lowered the small bit of material from around her hips, and before he could kiss that precious bit of fur, she backed off and crawled onto the bed. Here she stretched out casually, looking for all the world like a jaguar at rest.

Until now, they hadn't said a word to each other since dinner had ended. The sight of her, however, brought words to his thoughts. "Yelina, you are incredibly beautiful."

"Get undressed, Horatio." It wasn't an order so much as a comment.

As always, before he finally lowered his silk boxer shorts, he hesitated. He was in full erection and more than once, the sight of it had been a deal breaker. He was, after all, unusually large. The look on Yelina's face, however, told him she would brook no faltering. They had gotten this far and she was ready for the next step. He lowered the Irish green material and wondered how it would feel to have this thing aimed at him.

The slow smile from her released him from his stance and he quickly crawled onto the bed beside her, took her into his arms and kissed her feeling his deepest cravings take hold of him. Although she was no lightweight, he had no problem turning her onto her back and reducing her to his plaything. Perhaps, it was her idea to be played with, to be touched, to be kissed as he desired. At that moment, he didn't care. From her mouth, to her neck and down to her breast, while his hands played around her waist and tops of her hips, he kissed first one mound and then the other. He kissed in a figure eight going from the breastbone and around under the soft underbelly of the left breast and around to his favorite part, the side nearest the arm, and over the top and around and across to the other breast. This time he stopped and took his time on kissing and licking the part of the breast closest to the arm. This, to him, was the foie gras part of any woman, creamy soft in texture, sweet and exquisitely melting against the tongue. Given a choice, he could go without sex, he could go without kissing a woman; he would never go without enjoyment of this part.

There was no doubt that she was enjoying what he was doing as well. Her hands drew his shoulder close to her, pulled at his arms. Her hips wiggled in uncontrolled grinds as she gasped raggedly.

Now one hand moved down the outside of her hips and down her leg over the top of her knee and slowly up to where it connected to her body. He paused, waiting for a negative reaction and, not getting one, he moved to the inside. Instead of going higher he went down again. By this time, he had moved his mouth to the nipple of her breast and was completely enjoying that. He'd always been good at multitasking in the bedroom.

He was about ready to let his fingers drift up the inside of her leg when she cried out, "Horatio! Enough!"

He stopped and leaned back. He knew her plea was not an alarm. He had been taken to the brink of physical endurance in this manner often enough to recognize the tone.

She was still on her back, her hair splayed around her head on the pillow. She opened her eyes and turned them to him. "Dear, if this is just the beginning, I'm not sure I'll survive the ending."

Smiling, he leaned over and kissed her lips. "I have a special survivalist license in this department, so, not to worry."

She chuckled as she reached for him. "Oh, well, then." Suddenly with a glint in her eye, she rolled onto her side and pushed him onto his back. "As a matter of fact, I have some training in the art myself."

He felt himself enveloped in a haze of dark brown curly locks. She kissed him softly at first and then invaded with her tongue. She started with the movements she had practiced earlier, at the front door, and then went on to engage his tongue, calling for a delightfully furious battle. In the end, neither side winning or having felt a loss, she withdrew, ending by sucking on his lower lip and biting it ever so gently. Then she leapfrogged, kissing and nipping across his cheek to his ear. Usually, he wasn't fond of ear kissing finding it too close to ear washing. From the first little dry lick to the nipping and probing and kissing that only took place behind and around the outer shell, he was completely surprised and happily turned on. Maybe it was due, in part, because she was leaning over him to accomplish this and occasionally her breast would almost come close enough to kiss. Maybe it was because she didn't mind his hands roaming over her ass, into the crack and down the insides of her legs.

From his ear she went down his chest, ignoring the rough chest hairs and straight to the little nipples. He had heard that some men have no particular feeling in that area; not so for him. At the first lick, he could feel his now half soft erection leap again. He avoided the urge to take his dick in his hand and rub it up and instead, buried both hands into her hair trying not to smash her mouth against his chest. He wanted her to bite and lick and suck and pull it from its roots. Damn! What she was doing felt good.

It was a good thing he was laying down when she went to his groin and took the head of his penis in her mouth. Not too many women did that until some time down the line. Not only that, she played with his scrotum, gently rubbing his balls together, cuddling them and coddling them in her hands.

Suddenly, he lost control; he sat up and pulled at her shoulders, hauling her up to lay her head on the pillow again. Without a thought, he rolled on top of her and wasn't surprised to find she had splayed her legs. On his knees now, he bent over and kissed her mouth roughly, again and several more times. Each kiss drove his testosterone level and his drive to possess this creature higher.

She finally cried out, "Now Horatio, now! I want you in me, now."

It was what he had been waiting for without realizing it. He drove his member into the dripping wet cavity between her legs. Her legs went up and around his waist and locked.

In unison, the two exhaled, as if this was the climax of the act. All he could remember now was looking into her eyes for the longest time. Those eyes were a haven, her body was a bliss. Forever after, he would remember how it felt at that moment to be locked into her body, even the temperature of her inner most part.

Sometime later, who knows when, he started the ancient movements. She responded in kind adding that delightful extra of tightening up before he could pull back. Oh, my, that felt so good. Some lovers take a while before figuring out each others' patterns and rhythms; Yelina had had no problem finding what he liked and she seemed lost in herself from the start. That was where he wanted her. He didn't know how he knew but early on, he'd found that, in sex, women need to get lost in themselves to reach climax. Men do too except first they have to be aware of their partner. A man is useless after he's done where a woman has many places to go after her first pleasure.

When she began clawing at his ass, he knew she was close. Then, she hunched up into him, growling, a lion goddess demanding her due. He had no trouble giving her the ride she demanded. A triumphant groan, an uncontrollable stretch, as her eyes rolled signaled she had reached orgasm.

Instead of pushing him off, as some women from his past had done, she now looked at him with new eyes and a great smile. Not saying a word, she lifted her head and kissed him and pulled him onto her, grinding her hips against his.

Two seconds later, his original momentum doubled and he was out for himself. He wrapped her in a bear hug and buried his face deep into her neck. His hips became an unstoppable machine driving his stick into her opening. Only in later years did he realize that, at this point, he also made noises, a cross between grunting and something like bleating.

Not that Yelina was laying back and just taking it. She wanted more and was determined to get it. Only now, she could cheer for his team, urge him on, even slow him down according to her wishes. Of course, he didn't realize it at the time. As far as he was concerned, he was getting what he needed, nothing more.

Funny thing about orgasms. They are exactly like what scientists say happened at the moment of the Big Bang, at the beginning of the universe. First there's nothing, a deep, black void. Then, for Horatio, anyway, he knew something was about to happen and that it would tear him apart. He knew what was coming and every time it was a horrific feeling. Suddenly, there it was, this great explosion coming out of him, surrounding him, stars, clouds, light. That was a great feeling every time. No wonder men were exhausted afterwards.

When he did climax that time, it was perhaps the best he'd had in a very, very long while. He had collapsed against her, breathing hard. It had been great. Perhaps it was because Yelina had had a second orgasm at the same time. He knew for sure, she had orchestrated that. Yeah, women were wonderful creatures and this one was the best of them.

He had lost her then. Was it going to happen again?

"Mr. Rogomar, does this man look familiar to you?" Wolfe laid down the photo of Nate Kinson.

Rogomar hardly gave the picture a glance and then turned his head to look wistfully out the dining room window. He swallowed hard. "No."

Ryan really hated this part of his job. The man was in horrible pain over the loss of his mother. He didn't want to talk about it. He probably was up to his ears in funeral preparations and here was this cop in his face with a picture of a stranger asking stupid questions. Nevertheless, he persisted. "Could you take another look? I know this is hard but maybe he was one of your mother's customers? Someone who bought jewelry? Maybe he came in with someone?"

Another brief look brought up a welling of tears to the middle aged man's eyes. He shook his head again. "I have a fairly good memory for faces. I've never seen this young man before, I'm sure." His head swung again to the window. "You know, it was always about this time of the day Mother would take a break and we'd sit out there in the gazebo with a glass of lemonade. She loved her lemonade."

"And we're going to get the person responsible for depriving you of her company. I have just two more photos for you to look at. It's a long shot, but do you recognize either these people?" Ryan was following the dictum from lectures on how to interview a victim; let them feel like they can help you.

After a quick dab to his eyes with a wadded up tissue, Rogomar took a brief look and almost looked away. Then he stopped and looked a little more closely. He pointed to Jupiter's photo. "I've seen this one before."

"Where?"

"I don't know right now. Let me think." He laid one arm on the dining room table in front of him and put the other elbow up and massaged his forehead. "Um, I seem to recall a photo of him. I don't think I saw him in person. I can't think where the photo was though."

"Was it like, in a newspaper?"

"No, it was in a frame, a silver one, like the kind you get at a nicer store."

"Can you think of where the frame was? On a counter? On a shelf?"

"It's like it was combination of both. And it was surrounded by other stuff." Rogomar clapped his hand over his eyes as if trying to capture the image. "If I can only think why I was in a place like that."

"Did the place have anything to do with chemicals?" It was the only question Ryan could think to ask.

"Chemicals! I remember a chemical smell…ammonia! Like what's used at a beauty parlor. I was picking Mother up after her hair appointment. Usually she went by herself but her car was on the fritz. I took her and then picked her up so we could go out to lunch. She loved to show off her hair when it was freshly done."

"Where did she go to get her hair done?"

"Oh, always the little place just a couple of blocks from here. She would walk there it if she just wanted to go shopping but she never walked to the salon."

"Why is that?"

"To save money, she would wash her hair and toss a towel over her head and then go in. As often as not, she would be in a snit over her hair because her operator had missed a few snips here and there a week or so before, so she'd go in with a wet head and just spend fifteen minutes in the chair. Still, she'd go back to the same woman each time and come out feeling like a new woman."

"And that's where you saw this guy's picture?"

"Yes, it was at this operator's chair. I'm guessing it was her son?"

"Do you know if the operator's name was Margie Thompson?"

Daniel Rogomar shrugged his thin shoulders. "That sounds familiar. Maybe."

Wolfe thanked the dead woman's son and again gave condolences for his loss.

At the front door, the man paused and asked, "Is your mother still with you?"

Ryan almost admitted the truth and then realized that, in this case, the man wasn't looking for the truth. "No, I lost her several years ago."

"How do you deal with it?"

"It was too hard for me to go through it alone. A grief group was of great help. It took over a year but, finally, I was able to carry on by myself."

"Do you know of one?"

"Not here. This happened in Indiana. Talk to your church or maybe a councilor when you're ready."

The sad eyed man nodded absently, thanked Ryan and closed the door.

Climbing into the hummer Ryan pulled out his phone. "H, we need to talk to Mrs. Thompson about a customer of hers by the name of Eileen Rogomar."

"No, I'm not kidding."

An hour later, Ryan and Walter were facing down the flustered hair dresser. Her son sat nervously out in the hallway.

"When did you learn about the damage a large amount of potassium chlorate and a few rocks in a glass container could do?"

Margie shook her head in wonder. "Are you back to that bomb in the school thing again? Lordy, but you do have a one track mind."

Walter placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "We're talking about the bomb in Eileen Rogomar's workshop."

Both men caught the half beat of a pause before she said, "Is that why she hasn't been into the shop in the last few days?"

"Did you mean for it to kill her?"

"Me? What are you talking about?" She began rubbing her hands together.

Ryan was seated across from the woman and as he spoke his fingers began drawing lines between invisible points on the table. "Your son learns how to make an explosive device that just happens to fit in exactly with the kind of machine Mrs. Rogomar uses. There are three explosions, all within three days of each other. One looks suspiciously like a trial for the next two. Now, whether the next two were meant to happen in the order they occurred or if that was purely an accident, I don't know. Could you explain that?"

"Look, I'm not all that upset that woman is gone but why do you think I had anything to do with it?"

"Why aren't you upset she's gone?"

Margie Thompson leaned forward over her arms. "Because she was the most pain in the ass customer ever wished on a body, that's why. I guess I'm sorry she's dead but not sorry she's out of my life."

"Didn't she tip well?"

Now the woman leaned back with an air of disgust. "Huh! If that was all, I could have just found excuses not to do her. But no, she had to always act like what I did wasn't good enough, to say nothing of insisting on cutting corners. She'd wash her hair at home with god only knows what kind of product and then come in with a wet towel on and expect me to work wonders with her hair. Then, a week later, sometimes even two, she'd come breezing in and say I'd 'missed' a hair here or there and to be so good as to finish the job. Oh please! She just wanted a free trim. She knew that saying I hadn't done a good enough job loud enough for others to hear would make it bad for me. I'd do what she wanted just to shut her up."

"Did you know what her hobby was?"

"Hell! Who didn't know what her hobby was? She wanted the shop manager to sell her stupid jewelry for her. She'd do nothing but talk about it, how she made it, how she loved taking plain lowly ground material and turn it into shiny things. She bragged about using glass jars so she could see the pretty rocks tumble around and then see when they were done just so. And the way she talked. She'd raise her little finger when she said, 'done just so', as if she was really something. And watching her rocks was her way of saying she used glass jars because she could get them free from her friends or more likely from their trash."

Suddenly she realized how she sounded. "You don't think I had something to do with it?"

Walter crossed his arms. "Let's see, you knew how she made her jewelry and Jupiter, no doubt, told you about this cool bomb he'd just learned to make. Whether you knew about Jupiter's upcoming stunt is still in question. You definitely had motive to work your anger out on Mrs. Rogomar and you had a jar of potassium chlorate, which was the means. Yes ma'am, I do think you at least had something to do with it. What do you think, Ryan?"

"Even if you hadn't said she treated you like some sort of poor servant, the rest of the evidence against you is solid. I'm sure you didn't mean to kill the woman, did you?"

A moment of vivid panic crossed the hair dresser's face. "You know what? I just was so sick of her nit-picky ways, I had to do something to get back at her. I don't even know if I meant to kill her or not anymore. It's been real nice this past couple of days knowing I'd never see her again. It started out that I just wanted her to get beat up a bit by the rocks like she beat on me for so long. I didn't think she'd be so close. I didn't think!"

Ryan's look hardened. "It sounds like not thinking runs in your family."

Walter continued the refrain. "I'll bet you told your son how effective the bomb idea was after you'd blown up the store. How could you know that on the very day you went to Ms. Rogomar's place, your son, his girl and his friend decided to see how it worked in the lab?"

"That's on them, not on me!"

Walter and Ryan looked at one another and shook their heads.

Ryan bent over the table and said as gently as his anger would allow. "Well, you killed a person and they didn't. Considering your last remarks, when and if you ever get out of prison, how forgiving do you think your son is going to be of how you raised him?"

"My boy will still love me like he should! I taught him right!" Her anger began to levitate her to her feet.

Tired of Ms. Thompson's ignorance, Ryan motioned for the female officer outside the door to come fetch her.

Walter watched her go and remarked, "You know, with the way that woman influenced her son, it's a wonder he didn't stand inside the lab so he could watch the explosion as it happened."

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Umeko and Yelina were discussing Noteworthy Enterprises, as usual.

"You know what? I think I've found stuff to indicate there's more to that place than just conning people out of their dough."

"What is that?"

"Well, when I started digging into Gunter's computer, it just seemed to me that there was more server power behind it than seemed necessary for this kind of operation. I also found a huge number of fragmented files, meaning they'd been deleted. I reconstituted some of them and found they were all spreadsheets."

"Could you make anything of them?"

"Only a few. You see, of the thirteen or so I could get, seven were written in Aramaic, two were what looked like Russian and one was, I think, Chinese."

"The rest were in English, I hope?"

"Yes, but there's no telling what they were keeping track of. There are units of something moved at dates, received at dates and sold for an amount to parties with what I figure are code names."

"Let me see."

Umeko pulled up the files.

"I have seen a couple of the Russian words more than a few times. They were stamped on boxes of missile launchers."

"Wow! I've never been on a job like this."

"Yes, wow indeed. I guess we're going to have to go in and confiscate their computers to see what is going on."

Yelina pulled her cell from her jacket pocket. "Frank, I think I have a police situation coming up." She gave him the address.

Umeko looked alarmed. "Uh-oh! This sounds like guns! I'm not so sure I need to help you, after all. I'm a happy little lab rat with a husband and kids at home."

Yelina looked down at the shorter woman. "Don't worry, Umeko. You'll be staying way back until everything is under control. As soon as we've cleared the area you'll be escorted in and then be able to help us take the electronic equipment. I don't think there will be much all that much excitement anyway."

Two hours later, Yelina, accompanied by Frank Tripp and three uniformed officers, entered the elaborate foyer of the Noteworthy Enterprises building. They announced that they had a warrant of search and seizure to the receptionist. The pretty young woman made a call then removed her headset and excused herself. She went through a door marked Exit at the back of the lobby.

Yelina knew the woman would be greeted by officers and held in custody until things in the building sorted themselves out. The woman's reason for leaving quickly became clear.

Two minutes after she left, all hell broke loose in the three story tall lobby. Men burst from elevators on the third and second floors. They were dressed in helmets and bulletproof vests. All were brandishing weapons. From the ground floor elevator came Manuel Hinojoso surrounded by four heavily armed men.

He was dressed in a suit but may have had a vest underneath. He blustered, "What is the meaning of this?"

"From the number of guns y'all are carrying, I'd say you know exactly what we mean to do here." Frank didn't like guns in other people's hands. "Just stand down and let us take what we need."

"I'll kindly ask you to leave and we'll all be much happier."

Yelina spoke here. "We're here to charge you with defrauding the public and illegally moving weaponry."

Hinojoso lifted his hand to his jacket; an action which made the officers on the floor take aim. Slowing his movements, he purposefully reached inside and slowly pulled a card out. Showing it for what it was, he flicked it over the guard rail. "I'm afraid you're going to have to talk to my lawyer."

Frank, losing patience, shook his head and used a tone heavy with disgust. "We have a warrant so I say again, stand down or we'll have to do this the hard way.

. "Now just have your men put the guns away and we'll pretend this hasn't happened. Then we'll take the computers and go home. Savvy?"

Long experienced, Yelina, Frank and the officers knew Hinojoso was going to signal for his men to fire at almost the exact split second his arm raised. They all dove for cover before the first bullet was fired. The fact that the balconies were at a distance and their firearms were relatively light was in favor of the police.

Frank and Yelina were behind a heavily padded couch and the three officers were each behind chairs, also well padded. While two of the officers and Yelina returned fire, Frank and one of the officers were each calling for aid.

Of the twelve men who had come out of the elevators, five were apparently not prepared for the return fire. They immediately fled into the elevators. Hinojoso abandoned his men and raced to a door to the left of the elevators where, fumbling with a card, he finally got it through the slide and pushed through.

The men that were left took cover behind potted palms and even the glass between the rails at the edge of the balcony. They all fired in short volleys. In spite of the heavy fire they put out, one by one, they went down, wounded, or killed.

Five minutes into the battle, five patrol cars arrived. Only two of the enemies were left and they both gave up.

Quickly, Frank gave orders to officers in two of the patrol cars to drive around to the rear exits and cover those.

Looking casually around at the carnage, Yelina quietly asked, "You called for SWAT, I presume?"

Frank looked in askance. "Is the pope Catholic? Yeah, I did. If this is how they welcome us at the front door, I want a little more than pistols once we get deeper inside."

"I hope they get here fast. It doesn't take long to destroy a great deal of electronic evidence."

"What if we turn off the power to the building? Could that stop them?"

Yelina smiled. "It couldn't hurt. Let's go see where the electrical connection box is."

Outside they each took a different direction. Yelina's plan was to find the power box and shut it down. Thirty seconds later, she realized that Frank had a more direct approach. She heard gunfire.

Running around to the other side, Frank was examining the damage he'd done to the gigantic power connection box. "I think we're going to need flashlights when we get in there."

SWAT arrived quickly. Ten minutes later, they were attacking the two entry doors on the ground floor with battering rams.

After half an hour, Yelina was calling Umeko who was sweating impatiently in the CSI van, two streets away.

"That took some time."

Yelina smiled apologetically. "A power failure in the building made it difficult for anyone inside to see anything. There was quite a bit of panic."

It took one day for the power company to repair the damage done by Frank's target practice and two days to remove the computers and servers and set them up so that hacking wouldn't be a problem. It turned out that this was part of a ring of computers, though where the rest were, was yet to be seen.

Horatio found it strange to have to wend his way around equipment in the ordinarily roomy computer lab. He watched his step too, stepping over numerous cables.

Umeko turned from the screen to greet him. "Lieutenant Caine, this is way above my pay scale. Apparently it's part of a system of keeping track of where illegal arms and drugs are being sold. Whoever is responsible for all of this activity gets companies to set up front companies like dating sites only with servers that are much more powerful than they really need. Then, while the dummy company does its business, legitimate or not, the crooks are using the rest of the power to track shipments, deals, who is doing what and where. The feds will be in tomorrow to take the equipment."

Horatio's eyes twinkled but his brows lowered. "And they'll take the credit, no doubt."

Calleigh's eyes twinkled gaily. "Yes, but Umeko found the first clues. That was good work."

"Umm, Umeko, I think I might be able to arrange for you to work for the feds if you would like that."

"It sure wouldn't hurt my resume. If you could do that, I'd be indebted to you."

Yelina lowered the cup of coffee from her lips. "Umeko, I'll bet you're going to be hearing from the feds in a week or two. Your days of temping for vacationing staff here are numbered."

Horatio nodded. "It will be nice to have a friend over there, too."

Umeko blushed and hugged herself at the praise.

A couple of hours later Horatio stopped Yelina in the great hallway of the lab and asked, "How was your date?"

"A frog, I'm afraid. Ten years older than he'd listed online, twenty pounds heavier and carrying it all in one place. I wouldn't mind the weight but the lie about the age is a signal of something wrong in Denmark."

"One lie erases all of the truths."

Horatio hesitated, shifted weight just slightly, and examined his fingers.

Yelina knew from years of experience that this was a sign that Horatio had more to say. Not one to wait for him to find words for his thoughts, she said, "Yes, I know the next step in this process. Once the outward appearance seems to jibe with the description, I can trust…"

Horatio interrupted, "Yes, then verify." He smiled at the floor.

"By the way, Horatio, I have some news."

"Yes?" He didn't seem happy to change the subject, whatever it was.

Yelina persisted nonetheless. "I may be moving back into homicide faster than I hoped."

"Oh?" The tone of voice showed only an abstract interest.

"Horatio, I thought you'd be glad for me."

Horatio's face showed decision. "I am Yelina, but that's not what is on my mind."

"Is this something that needs to be talked about privately? In your office?"

"Actually, I had something a little more intimate in mind."

Yelina's elegant features went blank. "Such as?"

She was shocked to see the redhead's pale features blush to nearly crimson.

"Dinner at a quiet restaurant." His voice rose at the end, making the statement sound like a question.

"Horatio, are you asking me out on a date?"

She hadn't seen a man blush and hesitate so much since she was a girl and boys were asking her out for the first time.

"I am."

After the first rush of excitement, Yelina steeled herself against disappointment. After that last, brief brush at intimacy, after those crushing words she wasn't about to let herself believe he was making any steps towards her. She was, she decided, curious, nothing more. "I'd love to. When did you have in mind?"

"This Saturday? I can pick you up about seven thirty if that's alright."

"Casual?"

Horatio smiled uncharacteristically broadly. "To the nines, please."

He suddenly wheeled around and walked away, leaving the bemused Yelina to contemplate what she would wear.

Bea Fontana was more than cooperative when asked to come into the lab.

"We just need to eliminate you on something." Natalia wanted so much to apologize and knew she couldn't.

"No problem. I'll do anything to help catch the rat who killed Kelsey." Bea's eyes showed her amazement when Natalia raised her arm up, asked her to hold it forward and then measured it from shoulder to fingertip. "I gotta admit, that's the last thing I figured on. I thought you'd want fingerprints or DNA samples or cool stuff I've seen on the crime shows. Oh well, I hope it helps."

Natalia then measured the woman's height, asking if she wore similar shoes the night she had been on campus when Trainer had been murdered.

"These exact same shoes, as a matter of fact."

Natalia's eyes lit up. "May I see your shoes for a few moments?"

"Girl, you are thorough, but in a mighty peculiar fashion." She sat down handing her shoes over, one by one.

"I'll be back with them in a bit. Just sit here."

"No caseloads, no paperwork, nothing to do but daydream, oh yeah, I can do that." The black woman laid her head down on one arm on the table and with the other hand began drawing imaginary pictures on the glass with her finger. "Take your time, please."

Going down the hall to Maxine's lair, Natalia put the shoes on the table. "Can you give these a quick going over? I need to see if there's any blood spatter."

"Now? I'm up to my shoulders in work." Her hair today was bedhead style.

Natalia clasped her hands in a prayerful gesture. "Please? Pretty please? I'll love you forever if you do."

"Yeah, like I don't hear that from Eric all the time."

Natalia waved her hand dismissively, "Honestly, it's not like I want that much from you. It's just that she's so nice and she's waiting and I need to see if I need to detain her or let her go."

"Okay, okay! Gosh, for all the chatter, I could have done it three times already."

Maxine picked up a swap and ran a dribble of chemical over it. Then she ran the swab over the shoe in several directions, dribbled another bit of chemical over it, and waited. The swab remained pristine white. She picked up another swab and did the same procedure with the same effect.

"There, no blood. Happy now?"

Natalia's grin was answer enough. "Tell Eric you've got another worshipper only don't tell him who. It'll keep him at your feet and on guard for a while, at least."

"Go away, I need to work fast, or I'll never have time to see him."

Bea raised her head abruptly at Natalia's entry. "Back so soon? I was just beginning to relax. Oh well, no rest for the wicked. So, what next?"

"You can go; we're done."

"I hope this has been some help." Bea rose from her chair.

"We have to show we've eliminated everyone that can even be vaguely connected to the murder."

"And then, what's left, no matter how ridiculous, must be the truth."

"Something like that."

"I have to use that principal in my work as well."

Both women looked at each other sympathetically for a moment, then parted.

"Calleigh, you know how much I love you, right?"

Calleigh was laying on her couch glad to get her feet up. "This sounds serious. Come on over here, big man, and tell me what's up?" She summoned up as much Georgia magnolia charm as she could muster under the circumstances.

Frank shoved the coffee table aside with his knee and drew up a kitchen chair so that he could look at the woman he adored without disturbing her. "As much as I love you, I think I'm already more in love with those midgets growing in you."

Calleigh barked out a laugh. "Gosh! You make it sound like that's a bad thing. I don't mind that at all."

Frank looked down at his fidgeting hands that had dropped between his knees. His voice dropped to a very quiet level. "I also know how you love your job."

Calleigh reached over, touching Frank's knee. "Frank, I'll be restricted from working in the field in less than a couple of months."

"That's not what's bothering me. You and I both know how seldom cops are in truly dangerous situations in the field. It's what happens when you have to work in the lab."

Calleigh was at a loss. "What do you mean, love?"

"I know you've told me about all of the safety doo-dads in the lab, the exhaust fans, the alarm systems, the automatic door closers and all, but how sure is anyone that any of it is safe for pregnant women?"

"Frank, do you trust that I know my job?"

"Sure, but…"

"Then trust that a good part of my job is to read the safety standards, read the hazards by parts per million of any given chemical and read how to deal with the hazards before they get out of hand. The lab has the best state of the art equipment in the world. We not only deal with evidence using chemicals, we deal with the chemicals using shields, enclosures, filters and, as you said, exhaust fans and alarms."

"So, the pregnant women are safe?"

"And the not pregnant and the men as well."

"Well, the men don't have to worry."

"Oh yeah? Except for the protection, some of the stuff we work with could have men shooting neon green bullets and producing a whole new variety of little Tyrannosaurus."

"What? Really?"

"Well, maybe not that wild, but close. What I'm saying, my dear heart, is that the lab is probably safer for me and our baby than a walk through our neighborhood."

It took a minute for Frank to absorb the information. He sat thinking and gazing at the now dozing Calleigh in the dying afternoon light. Finally he said, "Dang woman! Now you got me worrying about you out in the field!"

Calleigh made a face showing her disgust at the impossibility of reassuring the man and rolled over to face the back of the couch. "Start thinking about what you're going to cook for dinner, Frank," she growled.

"Here's my report on Bea Fontana."

"What report?"

"The one you told me to do. I got her measurements and there's no way she could have struck the blow that killed Commander Trainer."

Nacimiento's face showed a patient disgust for ineptitude. "We already know who did it. We're bringing him in now?"

"Anchiova?"

The sharp "no," was accompanied by a sharper glare. "It's a staffer in the kitchen that Trainer was going to fire. Turned out the guy had a prison record. Trainer told him he had to the end of the week. Instead of leaving after the lunch shift, he hung around and then sneaked in that night and took out his anger."

"You mean between the time Anchiova left the office and Ray Caine Jr. entered, this cook had time to get in, kill Trainer and get out?"

"Are you questioning my findings?"

"You said you're bringing him in. That means you haven't taken any measurements."

"I don't need to take any measurements; the man is guilty. Now get out!"

Natalia did as she was told. She fled to the far end of the lab, pulled out her phone put in a call.

"Yelina! Can you get a call in to Ray Jr? I need some information and I think he's probably the only one who can give it."

Ten minutes later, she called Horatio and explained the situation. Five minutes after that, she found a computer that wasn't in use and pulled up a list of flights leaving every airport in the Miami area within the next two hours. Thanks to their cooperation, every flight was accompanied by a passenger list.

Ray had heard just two hours before that Corey was suddenly being pulled out of school. He had already packed and was whisked away by a limousine with darkened windows.

Mr. Zander Anchiova and his son were both brought in forty-five minutes later and separated from each other. Horatio had overseen the whole operation. Both were noisy, the younger being blustery and the older being threatening.

Outside of the interrogation room that held the older man Horatio noticed Mr. Anchiova's pose. It was if he was waiting for someone. Apparently, Nacimiento was the one.

He calmly watched the night detective's reaction to seeing Anchiova senior in an interrogation room.

"Is something wrong, Ramon?"

"What's Anchiova doing here?"

"He killed Trainer. His son overheard the deed and thus, is an accomplice."

"I've got the killer in another room!" Nacimiento moved to within a few inches of Horatio. Though shorter by three inches, he pulled his arms out wider and puffed his chest.

"Let's measure their height and length of their arms." Not moving back, Horatio's half closed eyes were all he needed to show he meant business.

"Won't mean a damned thing. There are too many other factors."

"I'm also having his shoes examined for blood. How about you?" Horatio's whisper had become dangerously quiet.

"You're trying to protect that incompetent bitch on your team aren't you?"

The lab was always full of people who always had machines working at high speed. Somehow, at this moment, all of the sound around the two men stopped dead.

Horatio moved back half a step and glared uncertainly at the fellow detective. "Excuse me, what did you just say?"

"You heard me, Caine. None of your people are all that precious or holy and that Boa Vista seems to think much to well of herself. She needs to be taken down a few notches"

Moving as quickly as a hooded cobra striking its victim, Horatio moved toward Nacimiento. Anyone watching, even from a few feet away, wouldn't have noticed how hard Horatio's arm was jammed into the other detective's diaphragm. They would have seen Nacimiento stumble back against a wall, noticed the redhead lean forward, and say, ever so quietly, "And you think calling her names is how to take her down a few notches? Let me tell you something, Ramon, if I ever hear you call anyone a name of any kind other than their given name in this lab, you and I are going to have a serious problem."

Ramon shoved forward, releasing Horatio's weight. Trying to regain his composure, he looked up into the slightly taller man's face. "I'll get back to you on that. Meanwhile, I stand by the basic premise that she is wrong and had no right to call Mr. Anchiova in here."

"And you were willing to possibly let a killer go in order to prove your point?"

"I'm doing my job and keeping my people in line at the same time. Can you say as much?"

The heavy eyebrows lifted. "As you said, I'll get back to you on that. At the moment, I have a case to prove. Since my nephew was absolved of all blame, I can officially take this case off your hands which I am now doing. Go get the files and bring them to me immediately."

Turning from the flustered and angry detective as if he wasn't there anymore, Horatio pulled out his phone. "Natalia, the case is ours and Anchiova is all yours. Call me when you've got something."

Ten minutes of interview with the man Nacimiento's team had brought in convinced Horatio he couldn't have done the deed. He apologized for the inconvenience and had him escorted out of the building.

Watching the man enter the elevator, he heard Natalia's voice.

"Horatio, Anchiova is lawyering up. We know his son was there and heard something but he wasn't in the room. Do we have anything on him besides the arc of the swing?"

"I haven't had a chance to look at the file yet, Natalia. I'll pick up the file as we go to my office. We can look at it there."

Natalia couldn't help but admire the joyfully evil tone in Horatio's voice when he said at Nacimiento's office door, "Ramon, the file please."

Nacimiento, seated at his desk, looked up sharply, first at the man who was his superior in every way and then at Natalia beside him. He reached slowly to the corner of his desk, picked up the file and, for the briefest moment, looked like he was going to throw it at the waiting man. What he did, instead, was the only act of rebellion he could do, hold it out, and wait for Horatio to come and take it.

Horatio glanced at Natalia for a second, smiled just slightly, and then entered the office, took the file and said, "Thank you." He then wheeled around and walked away so quickly, Natalia practically had to run to catch up.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"None of my report on Anchiova is in there? But, how could he do that?" Natalia's outrage could be heard all over the lab.

"Nothing on Bea Fontana or your interview with Troy either."

"Incredible!"

"I'm surprised Dr. Loman's findings are in there."

Natalia's deep brown eyes showed her anguish. "I gave it all to him. What can we do?"

"It's a good thing you kept copies. Now that I have the file, it's all going in. The problem is, there's still no definitive proof that Anchiova swung the blow."

Natalia considered her next words before she said, "Horatio, do you think it would be alright if I talked to Ramon's team?"

His interest piqued, Horatio asked, "What are you thinking?"

"This is awful to say and I hope I'm wrong. I'm betting my reports aren't the only ones to disappear. Maybe this wasn't just a vendetta against me so much as an effort to protect Anchiova." She went on to explain what she had found in the two men's backgrounds.

"And you think it's possible some other evidence was found in Trainer's office?"

"We'll never know unless we ask around."

Horatio hated to think that a fellow officer would sink to selling out to the criminal element. On the other hand, once evidence is shown one way, only proof to the contrary could absolve him. "Discreetly, please. This is a serious accusation."

"I'll just chat up the case, say how I think there's more, wait to see who volunteers what."

"Sounds good. Find me."

Horatio had no doubt she could get all the information she needed by doing just that. Why was it, he wondered, that women could be so glib so easily, seek information without seeming to pry? He, like most men, were direct and to the point, which, in most police work, did the trick with no fuss or bother. Many times, however, that technique backfired and made people shut down. The added arsenal women carried as part of their natural talents had doubled the returns of criminals removed from the public streets. And to think, a generation ago men in the police were absolutely opposed to women joining the force. 'Lord! What fools these mortals be'.

Speaking of which, was he setting himself up for a major crash by making a date with Yelina? After all, he had all but told her only a few days ago that she and he were only friends, brother and sister at best. Her disappointment was certainly plain. She had put Ray's memory to rest and, he guessed, she had assumed he had laid down his active love for Marisol. Then, when he brought up his promise to Ray, she had felt the bite of the word, assume. Never assume; it makes an ass out of 'u' and 'me'. Did she think he'd chided her for not loving Ray enough or, at the very least, thinking she was cold for believing he'd set aside Marisol's memory for her?

Yes, perhaps he'd made his own assumptions about his responsibilities as laid down by Ray. He'd too often put Ray's priorities above his own. He hadn't fought for Yelina when he'd come back from Pensacola. He hadn't taken advantage of her vulnerability after Ray's disappearance. He hadn't taken advantage of her widowhood. He'd always thought of Ray as just being around the corner and maybe he thought Yelina was of the same mind.

Now that he was ready to take the next step with her, was Yelina ready for him? Her guard would really be up after the other evening. Had she given up on men she knew? Lord knew her luck with men in the last ten years had been rotten. He had taken off, Ray had proven himself a bad choice, and then there was that short time with Stetler. How had she done that?

Horatio sighed as he considered how to brooch the subject of them getting back together. When should he bring it up? In the middle of the date? At the end? How would he know it was the right time to do it? He sure wasn't going to interview her like a perp. He resolved that all he could do was know his own feelings and go from there.

"Hey, Horatio, do you need anything more from me or Calleigh today?"

"Why, no Frank. You both can go." He was glad to have a relief from his thoughts.

"Good, we have an appointment for a sonogram; get to find out if we shop for blue or pink."

"Do you have any particular desires?"

"Me? I'd like a cute little girl, just like her momma."

"Not that there's a choice at this point."

Frank grinned. "Nope. I've got about an hour and a half of wish time left and then it's plan for what is."

Horatio smiled at his taller friend. "Good luck. Give me the good news tomorrow."

"Will do." Frank turned and headed for the elevator.

Horatio had been so involved with Frank, he hadn't heard Natalia's approach. His only sign of surprise at her voice was his sudden turn.

"I've got it."

"What's that, Natalia?"

"Thank goodness, any one in this lab worth his salt makes copies of everything for personal files. It seems there were two samples of blood on the murder weapon. The sharp edges of the figures cut into the wielder's hands. Only one sample of the blood made it into the file folder."

"And?"

"And the second sample belongs to Anchiova."

"And?"

"There was also a drop of Anchiova's blood found on the carpet by the desk."

"So, two reports are missing; one entirely. The other report had to have been altered. I'll bet if we dust the report, you'll find only one set of prints and it won't be the tech who reported on the samples."

The space over Horatio's nose folded. His quiet voice rumbled, "Let's go to the print lab."

In the lab, Horatio made a peculiar request. "Ms. Boa Vista, please make a film to document each step we're taking here, starting now."

When she returned with the camera, he had already donned his white lab coat and rubber gloves.

As she set the camera, Natalia asked, "May I ask why we're doing this?"

"Because, the Miami-Dade police have the best defense attorneys in the business. The thin blue line is backed up by solid wall of justice. If you were accused of committing a crime as a police officer, you'd want that, wouldn't you? If we have a case against Ramon, we need to make it absolutely clear. Now, if you would, please start recording."

Carefully laying the file on the table, he opened the folder, saying, "As each finished report is entered into the folder, it receives two punch holes, and then the detective in charge lifts the metal clasps inside the folder, the report is slid on top of the other reports and the clasps are closed. Because the folder is kept only by one detective, only one set of prints should be on the metal clasps. Two, perhaps three sets of prints should be on the reports themselves."

Horatio carefully lifted the long metal clasps and dusted each one with a fine layer of black powder. The loose powder fell on the cover sheet laid over the reports. The cover sheet not only protected the reports from handling but also listed in large type the case being reported on.

He lifted the prints on the metal prongs and ran them quickly through their in-house prints. After a moment, he stood back and turned the screen to the camera. "So far, so good. The prints are those belonging to Ramon Nacimiento. This means that only he added or removed reports."

After taking prints from the top sheet as an exclusionary, Horatio went directly to the reports in question. "At the very least, there should be two sets of prints on each report; the technician's, who did the work and printed up the report and handed it in, and the lead detective who received the report."

After a few minutes of dusting each sheet thoroughly on both sides and then running the prints, he went on to dust several more sheets. Finally, Horatio stood up with a resigned look. "One report has only one set of prints, those of Detective Ramon Nacimiento. That report was produced by tech on night shift and should have his prints on it. This means it is a copy made by Nacimiento."

For the first time, he looked directly at the camera. "I will be filing a report to IAB on this matter. I am charging Ramon Nacimiento with obstruction of justice and for withholding evidence." Saying no more, he walked out of the lab.

Natalia turned the camera off, removed it from the tripod, and followed her boss to his office. The file and the camera were put into Horatio's desk.

For the first time, ever, Horatio locked his desk and put the key in his pocket.

Seeing him stand and walk out, Natalia was fairly certain she was supposed to follow. Her boss didn't pause as he passed the room where senior Anchiova and lawyer sat consorting but he did give a withering smile. Then she wasn't at all surprised when, passing Corey Anchiova, he said, "Follow me, son."

They all entered an interrogation room.

"Sit down, please." Horatio's voice was soft and almost gentle.

"Where's my father?"

"He's been arrested for the murder of Commander Trainer."

The nineteen year old boy looked up without raising his head. He frowned and steadily gazed at Horatio as if to bully him down.

Horatio ignored the dogging. Instead of sitting on the opposite side of the table as usual, he pulled a chair around to where young man sat. He seated himself so that his knees were almost touching Corey's. Putting his hands on his thighs, Horatio calmly looked into the angry face waiting for what he knew would come.

"You're kidding, right?"

"There's no doubt. We've proven it. He's talking to his lawyer now."

"So? Why are you talking to me?"

"Natalia interviewed your friend Troy Delaney who was with you the evening your father killed Trainer. He said you were listening at the door and then suddenly told him to leave. Is that when your father was killing Trainer?"

"You're not supposed to be talking to me."

"Why not? You're eighteen, not a child anymore. Look, we're just curious why your dad lost his temper. What was going on in there? You weren't even sure what your father was doing. You knew it wasn't good, didn't you?"

"I'm not going to rat him out. Not my father!"

"Just tell us what they were talking about. How's that?"

"Something about how much money my father had donated to the school. He always thought the tuition was a little on the high side anyway. Then, I guess he figured they should put me on the fast track to the senior dorm because of the donations."

"I understood that Trainer never announced his decisions immediately at a meeting over advancement."

"Well, when I first left, he was saying he'd get back to us. I knew my father was going to work on him, though. You don't put the old man off when he wants an answer. I just wanted to hear how he was going to get the answer he wanted; that's why I listened."

"So, I take it he didn't get the answer he wanted. Tell me, Corey, did you approve of what your father did?"

Obviously the young man didn't know what to make of the question or the softly gentle tone behind it. His surprised eyes examined the pale features from which it had come. Then, the hazel eyes looked down and inward for a full measure of ten beats. Finally, when they rose again, a different person was using them. "First, I don't know that he did it but I'm pretty sure he's going to go to jail, at least for a while. That means I'll be on my own, large and in charge of my dad's organization. I don't know if Daddy will approve of what I do but until he comes back, it's the way it is." He leaned back in the chair, not quite a child, but most definitely not a fully grown man.

For a short while, Horatio's eyes had carried a glow of hope for this lad. As he watched the slouch complete with the spread out legs, the glow died. "You don't have to follow your father's path, you know."

"Why not? He's a top dog. When he gets out of jail, he'll be proud of me for keeping the business together for him."

"And what if he doesn't get out of jail?"

The unattractive smirk surrounded eyes that would one day be sunken and dark. "Then I guess I get an early start on carrying on, don't I?"

"Thank you for the information. You can go now. Call us tomorrow to find out how to contact your father."

Natalia stood by her boss as they watch the swaggering youth enter the elevator. "What a waste."

He gave Natalia a hard look and said, "Thank you, good work. I'll see you in the morning."

By noon the next day, Horatio felt like he'd been up for seventy-two hours and fighting an army while running up hill. The only satisfaction he'd gotten from Nacimiento's arrest was hearing the tirade as the Hispanic man was brought out of the IAB interrogation.

"You think you're so great with all the red hair and the pale, pale face. You think freckles gives you special powers! You don't know what it's like to have to prove yourself all of the time. People do things for you because you're so white, not because you're a good leader. My arrest record is as good as yours Caine. You couldn't stand that I'm better than you! I got things done, you bastard." The man was still shouting as he was taken into the elevators to be put into holding.

The words hadn't hurt. Some people just carried a grudge, relied on excuses for not being able to accomplish their goals. That was the way the world worked. What wore him down was that one of the force had gone wrong. Nacimiento had too long protected Anchiova and then, when it was time to stop, for whatever reason, he wouldn't. Worse, Ramon's actions had made his own team look like they couldn't do their job. How long would it take for whoever took over to bring the morale up so they would do their jobs to the best of their abilities? The CSIs of Miami were considered to be among the best in the country, all of them.

"It's not even lunch time and you look as bad as I feel at the end of a day."

He smiled at the perky voice. "I'll get over it quicker."

"Supposedly I'll be done with the tireds in another couple of weeks and be back to my old self until the last couple of weeks or so."

"So, I hear you had a sonogram last night? What's the happy news? Frank said he wanted a girl."

"We're both going to have our hands full. It's twins! Boys! Frank is already patting himself on the back for his powers."

"Congratulations. I warn you though, twins or no, we're not going to let you go until the last minute, you know."

Calleigh beamed liked she must have at the news the night before. "So, you won't treat me like fine porcelain? I'm glad."

"I didn't say that. Your days of going out into the field will be over at the beginning of the second trimester."

"I know, department policy. I'll learn to live with that. I'll go crazy with six months in the lab; just so you'll know."

"I think we can learn to live with that." Horatio looked up from his usual examination of his nails. He was feeling much better.

At that moment, in another part of the lab, when the elevator doors opened, Walter beamed at the site of Lottie.

"I'm sorry I'm a bit late. An acid spill in a class had us in a tizzy this morning."

"Oh yeah, I remember the good old days at school. No problem. Let's go."

On this day, Lottie's poofed hair was piled high and barely kept in place by another of her spectacular batik scarves. Walter took note of her hips moving within the straight line skirt, filling out the rear in fine fashion. Yes, African fashions flattered her wonderfully. He could only hope that she would find his completely American look as attractive.

After an hour's tour, or rather an hour of showing this lovely, intelligent woman off to anyone who was available, he got permission to take an hour off for lunch. By the end of the lunch, they were planning their date for Saturday night; dinner and an outdoor movie. Walking back to the lab, Walter was wondering if she liked visiting the Seaquarium, or maybe going on picnics, or visiting museums or any of a dozen activities that could be nice on a Sunday afternoon. Yes, Walter felt that life was good indeed.

A few hours later, the team was seated around a table at their favorite bar.

"Twins Calleigh? I can hardly wait to see what you look like just before you deliver. You're so tiny I can't imagine it." Ryan was nothing if not direct.

Eric couldn't help himself. "She always was something of an overachiever."

Frank growled, "You're talking like I had nothing to do with it."

Natalia pushed on the large man's shoulder. "You started it, had all the fun and now she gets all the work."

Ryan, Eric and Walter nodded knowingly, leering at the idea of the fun.

Calleigh, blushing, said, "Hey, come on, now. He's already treating me like a queen. I don't cook, don't clean and don't even go grocery shopping. I'll be lucky to be able to lay hands on one of my little tykes at a time with him around."

Natalia leaned back. "I'm impressed, Frank."

Frank hunched his head down into his shoulders.

Ryan gestured with his head. "Hey, he's embarrassed that he's such a caregiver."

Horatio's appearance brought hails from all. He pulled up a chair and called for coffee.

This brought a change of subject, much to Frank's relief.

"By the way, Walter, who was the fox? A distant cousin?"

Walter's chest expanded, crowding his companions in the booth around him. "A lady friend. She's about to get her master's degree in chemistry. She plans to enter the police force and then she'll apply to work for CSI. We're going out tomorrow night."

Ryan slapped his hand to his forehead. "Good lord! Frank cleaning and cooking, Walter going out on a date; the world's coming to an end!"

Enjoying himself, Horatio wondered what the reaction would be if they knew the other half of the evening's banter. He couldn't tell, of course. He didn't care to share that much of himself much less let other's know of Yelina's business. Besides, the news might be more wishful thinking than news, anyway. Time would tell.

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

While getting ready for her evening with Horatio, Yelina enjoyed the cooling evening breeze coming from the back yard. Not only could she hear the birds through the open French doors, she could hear every other little sound around her quiet neighborhood. As she dabbed a bit of perfume on her neck, she smiled when the familiar sound of the MG engine purred to a stop at twenty-one minutes after seven.

Yet, she didn't stir from the bench seat at her dressing table. She knew Horatio well enough that he was making sure, for himself, that he was on time. At exactly seven twenty-nine he would get out of the car, straighten his tie, put on his jacket, and at precisely seven-thirty, ring the doorbell.

When they were younger, she was always in a rush and never on time. She would hear his steps as he bounded up the three flights so there was no doubt as to who was knocking. She would always have to cry out that she would be a minute, knowing, as he did, that it would be five or even ten before she was decent enough to open the door. She did try to hurry. It was always a hassle to rush home from the station, change out her work clothes and be ready in time.

Then, when they both thought Ray was dead, she always had to make sure Ray, Jr. was settled with her mother, making sure his favorite snack was ready. Their occasional dates then were casual and yet the old routine of his having to wait while she got ready was, well, just that, the old routine.

Now she had no excuse and yet, she still sat quietly at her table, applying the last of the lipstick, another dab of perfume. She knew his routine and she persisted in pretending to be caught unawares of the time.

Horatio knew that he could just as well ring the doorbell at seven thirty-one or five minutes later; Yelina always seemed to take that long to answer the ring. He never knew why that was. He just knew that he could count on having to wait, on standing outside the door and being vulnerable.

When she finally opened the door, both could see the effort put into the preparation for the evening. Yelina wondered if Horatio had actually gone to a professional stylist to get his hair done. The gold highlights among the red gold strands were perfectly laid and flashed in the last of the sunlight. The back of his head had the look of a fresh straight line. He wore a new suit that wasn't quite brown or bronze and yet had qualities of both which made the almost gold shirt gleam. The gold tie, held down by a gold clip with a diamond chip at the end, pulled it all together in such a way that made his azure eyes the primary gems in the display.

Those eyes took in Yelina's efforts in her own appearance. His mind struggled with the puzzle of how she could make less seem like so much more. Her white dress had a slightest touch of green in the color; a strapless sheath of polished cotton hugging her body without constricting any part of her. Yes, the idea that it had been painted on crossed Horatio's mind. The color of the green was so pale it would have been unnoticeable if not for the large pendant of turquoise hanging from the silver chain to just above the breast line of the dress. The gem spoke a poem on the glories of a touch of green. White was always a good color for Yelina as was green and this combination in the dress was perfect. Her high heels were transparent plastic. There could never be enough said about her crown of hair, as far as Horatio was concerned. His memories of the delicious feel of those curls wrapping around his fingers as he lay with her were seldom far away from his thoughts.

Half an hour later, in a city that is as used to beautiful people as Hollywood is, they were escorted to their seats with all of the flair of the most notorious. The restaurant had known from the reserved table that the person had to be 'a someone'. It was, after all, the best table in the place. More, he had requested that all other tables be moved to a distance of six feet or more. When the reservationist had stated the extra cost for the request, she was somewhat taken aback when told they would be paid two thirds of that cost, period. The tone of voice told her that he was used to such service, knew the cost, and would not brook being cheated. So, of course, the word about the table, the extra, and the reply to the cost, all told them this had to be someone notorious and they were curious. When Horatio and Yelina came in, no one cared that the recognition wasn't instantaneous. Their looks and bearing alone would have gotten them best available seating.

And yet, these two lovely people didn't act like the rich or famous. The sommelier was somewhat disappointed that only a moderately good wine was asked for. The chef, who had been alerted, was put out that only the regular menu fair was ordered. The pastry chef who had been called in for the evening went home in a huff, knowing his services wouldn't be needed beyond what he'd already prepared earlier that day.

Only being slightly aware of the flutter going on around them, Yelina and Horatio were extremely happy to have a delightful evening together. Both liked the restaurant and had no idea they could have ordered almost any food on the planet prepared in any fashion. They liked what was ordinarily served and they were happy with it.

About halfway through the main course, Horatio finally broached the subject. Yelina could tell from the change in his tone as well as the way he paced his words that he was about to reveal what the evening was all about.

"I'm sorry you're online date didn't go terribly well."

Yelina felt a bit of a disappointment but shrugged it off. "Umeko said it took her two years to find her husband. I'm thinking that at my age with a teenage son, it could take even longer."

"But you intend to keep trying?"

"I've been living apart from the world for too long, Horatio. Maybe I'm just a romantic."

"Nothing wrong with that."

The pause told Yelina that Horatio expected her to make a reply but she had no idea what to say. Instead, she took a bite and smiled expectantly at him.

Avoiding her delightful gaze, Horatio toyed with his food. He seemed to need to examine every morsel, taking small bites of what passed only the closest scrutiny.

Finally, Yelina couldn't take it anymore. "Horatio, what is this about? It isn't about my online dating. The restaurant is wonderful, the table is perfect, and the only time a waiter comes near is when you signal. This has your signature all over it, but why?"

Yelina was shocked to see Horatio lose control of his face. He actually couldn't decide whether to smile or look serious or develop a nervous twitch. She wasn't sure whether she should wait for him to get it together or call for a doctor.

He recovered in time to say, "Because, Yelina, I'm trying to court you."

If he had said, 'Let's go to Washington DC and blow up the White House', Yelina couldn't have been more surprised. What could she say to words she'd been waiting to hear since she had decided to move on with her life after Ray's death? She chose and rejected several pieces of her duck in wine sauce while she considered. Several days ago, she had finally chosen to lay her heart out to him. It had all started so accidentally and led so quickly to her near invitation to her bed. Then, his response that his responsibility to her lay in what he had promised Ray, to be her friend had really hurt. She had pretty much told the glorious redhead to go to hell and decided there were plenty of fish out there, not just him. Now this. Courting? For sure, he wasn't mocking her; that could be done in much less time and for much less effort. No, this was a sincere move on his part. Finally she knew her only response to his effort could be, "It's working. Thank you." She wasn't sure of her feelings but for now, she'd just go with it.

Just that quickly, the tension that had been building since they'd been seated, was gone. They were old friends now, and were testing the waters to see if there was anything more to link them closer.

Later, at Yelina's door, Horatio refused to enter. At Yelina's look of confusion and fright, he kissed her gently and took her into his arms. "If I go inside, I may make the mistake of pushing this too fast. I'm a man and I'm weak. Let's give this a month or two. For now, a kiss at the door, next time perhaps two. Alright?"

Yelina wasn't sure what to make of this new man. She wasn't sure she liked it either, but, alright, she'd play his silly game. It had been almost five years since she'd been with a man, so a month or two more couldn't be all that hard, could it?

It was.

Two weeks later a picnic at the Miamarina Park set her off. She'd almost forgotten about the daydream she'd had nearly a month before. After several evening dates, they had decided on an afternoon by the Marina. The ends of the dates so far were getting hard to handle. A kiss at her door had turned to two and then to outright necking sessions in his little car. The disadvantages of dates in the MG became a running joke between them. Still, neither was sure it was the right time and Yelina had felt content to wait…so far.

It was the time of year when the threat of showers was minimal and the weather wasn't too oppressive, so they were both were dressed in hiker shorts. Even so, they sat in the shade of the palms. After polishing off two sandwiches, a couple of sweet pickles and a soft drink, Horatio had laid back by Yelina's side in pure contentment. Looking down at him, suddenly, her daydream came back to her and the rest of the world went away. The white steed grazed nearby and Horatio was naked. She remembered every freckle from their younger days and imagined the myriad of more that he had no doubt accumulated since. She knew now, without a doubt, she wanted this man more than anything else in the world. She wanted to crawl up his frame, kiss his lips, his chin, and slowly work her way down. She wanted to rub herself on him until he was writhing and moaning his desire for her.

The only thing that saved him that day was an officer down call to them both. Now that Yelina was back with the homicide division, she had to respond as well as Horatio.

Both agreed the conversation had to take place. Young Ray couldn't just be 'told' what was going to happen; he had to understand that his blessing could be withheld if he so chose.

When the new school commander gave permission for a longer than usual phone call, they knew that Ray, of course, would know something was up.

"Mijo, your uncle, Horatio is on the line with us. We have something to discuss with you."

Once said, both of the adults could have been knocked over with feathers at the words that tumbled out of the phone. "Wow! Finally! Are you going to live together or really get married? Can I be the best man, Uncle Horatio? Oh, wait! Mom! I'd have to walk you down the aisle. Jeez! How would that work?"

Yelina and Horatio looked at each other in wonder as the words tumbled from the phone.

Recovering first, Horatio had to first control his smile before he could speak. "So, I take it you approve of our being together?"

"Hell—I mean, yes sir, I sure do. I'd say welcome to the family but since you are family, well, I'm honored to be closer to you."

Horatio could swear the young man's voice was about ready to choke up. He looked at Yelina and could see her eyes welling up at the tone. "Ray, I hold that honor in the highest esteem and always will." He was surprised that such formality was actually coming out of his mouth. From her look, he could tell that Yelina was equally surprised and in complete approval.

"Mijo, nothing is formal yet. We just wanted to let you know what's going on. We're happy you approve but if you ever have any questions…"

Horatio added, "or objections…"

"don't hesitate to bring them up. You're a member of the family."

There were several beats in the pause before Ray spoke. His tone was that of a weary teen. "Mom, I also know this is your life. I just want you to be happy. Maybe if this was someone else, I'd wonder, but you, Uncle Horatio? No way."

"Thank you, son. Just remember there's time. We'll see you when your visiting days start."

"I'll look forward to that."

For a few moments, Ray and Yelina spoke about school and how he was doing while Horatio listened. Although he didn't really hear the words, he enjoyed the cadence of the tones between the two. It was the sound of family.

Love life for police officers is, at best, sporadic, even for people who work together. It was another week and a half after the picnic before an opportunity for the next chance to get together arose. Somehow, as soon as the subject came up, there was no doubt in either Yelina's or Horatio's minds what was going to happen.

"Dinner at my place then?"

"Something light?"

"I think that's best."

As soon as Horatio entered the house, he felt comfortable in a way he hadn't in a long time. It wasn't just Yelina's glowing charm either. True, he felt welcomed in the Latin sense of 'mi casa es su casa'. He knew they were getting closer and she was happy to see him, but all of that wasn't entirely the feeling; it was more. It took some work to turn off the detective's mind, to simply enjoy the feeling without finding the root cause.

Dinner that night, came after the main course. It started out as Horatio watched Yelina stand at the kitchen counter cutting celery for about two minutes before he came up behind her. He gently took the knife from her hand and laid it down. He moved her hair and kissed her on the side of her neck, savoring the sweet taste of her skin.

At first she laid her head to one side and enjoyed the touch of his lips, the warm feel of his body on her back. After a moment, she turned in his embrace and let herself be kissed again and again. Before her knees buckled entirely, she withdrew and pulled him gently in a slow walk to the bedroom.

Horatio felt like he'd entered the dream he'd often had; walking down a golden corridor, being led by a tall woman crowned with long curly hair. He could never quite make out her face but he could sure see her naked body, her rounded butt, her full breasts separated by a just so waist. All of this was on top of legs that went on forever. As he walked, his analytical mind knew he was wishing this woman was Yelina and yet, since her face was unclear, he wouldn't jump to conclusions. He only knew that, if he was being led to where he hoped she was taking him, then, most surely his suspicions would be proved. And yet, each time, the walk down the hallway ended with him waking, one arm stretched out seeking a hand.

This time, the walk wasn't endless. This time, he could see where they were going. This time, he could see Yelina's beautiful features turning to look at him. This time, she wasn't naked…yet.

The process of getting undressed was a slow and confusing battle of hands helping and getting in the way until they gave up and decided to do it for themselves. Then it seemed to be a race to see who would shed the last bit of material but that was merely a matter of less than five seconds anyway.

One quick look assured the other that all of the equipment was the same and just as attractive as it had been years ago.

"Horatio, I want you," Yelina whispered as she moved in and kissed him. Saying the words, she also raised a leg up to his hip.

He grabbed for her other leg and powerful hands beneath her buttocks, carried her, wrapped around him to the bed where they fell.

Each began by inhaling the other, consuming breath, tongue, lips, and skin.

Hands were holding, rubbing, grasping, and stroking. There were no boundaries, set or found.

They rolled, twisted, turned and intertwined.

Breathing, once deep and luxurious, became gasps, groans, and moans of delight.

They discovered, found the well-known, the familiar, and quickly got acquainted with the new treasures life had brought.

Habits they had developed many years ago once again took hold. Signals in looks and smiles became invitations. Hesitations were familiar teases.

Their bodies became flush with desire, parts moved seemingly of their own volition.

When they finally joined, both sighed in sweet unison.

To Horatio, his last encounter with her could have been yesterday, it was all so very familiar.

Yelina's last cogent thoughts before succumbing to mindless, flaming desire were, "These arms are where I belong."

In the end, they were rewarded with the result of two universes colliding, an explosion of feelings and stars and their own minds.

After a while, Horatio was barely aware of a soft voice coming through the soft darkness he'd been enjoying. "I'm going to go start dinner again."

He had no idea how much longer it was before he was conscious enough to marvel at the comfort he felt.

"Hey, you awake?" Yelina crept softly onto the bed and kissed his lips.

"More or less."

He could feel Yelina's dark eyes wandering over his face and torso. He shifted so that he could stroke her bare shoulder. "What?"

"I was just thinking how good you look here in my bed. Somehow, until now, I had doubts that I would ever want another man here. Suddenly, I want to tell you, 'mi casa es su casa,' and mean it in every sense, both Spanish and American."

Horatio smiled both in gratitude at having a deep desire filled. "Thank you, sweetheart."

They kissed and then pulled back at the same time, showing a determination to keep their passions under some sort of control.

"Are you ready for dinner?"

Horatio had to shift gears and consider the matter. "Come to think of it, I'm starving."

Giving him another kiss, Yelina threw herself off of the bed. "Alright then Mister, we play in bed but eat at the table so get up, throw something around your waist and come eat."

Watching her elegant form, swathed in a halter-necked terry cloth sheath, wave smoothly out of the room, Horatio lay back for a moment. He was awake and would get up. For now, he wanted to enjoy this feeling, something he'd been so long without. For the first time in a long time, his mind voiced the thought, 'I'm home.'

Finis (for now)


End file.
